Purple Stone: Eragon Book 3
by grizzfire91
Summary: My version of Book 3. Takes place after Burning Plains. Roran is excluded.  Very unique and surprising, yet follows Eragon criteria. Please, please, R&R!
1. Chapter 1

_Purple Stone: Eragon fanfiction; Book 3_

Chapter One: Afterwards

_Blood has been spilt this day, Eragon. And I'm afraid to say that there have been lives wasted for little effect. _Eragon nodded, knowing that Saphira was right. He followed her, cautiously navigating around the hundreds of befallen friends and enemies. The sun had now left them, leaving the Burning Plains in an eerie, blood darkness. Although he had become quite numb after battle, Eragon was certain the soles of his boots were dripping with blood. Grieving family members, friends, or any other who had lost a loved one in battle knelt before the dead, weeping in sorrow. the sight of it made ERagon's stomach churn, as if he were about to vomit on the spot. He at last walked towards the clearing, where the tents of the Varden were strewn about randomly. Eragon choked back a sob at the sight of a mother and daughter attempting to heal their wounded, the small girl remaining quite calm as she tried to console her widowed mother.

Saphira nudged her magnificent head at his side, gowling lowly. Everything had become a blur to Eragon, as if he had entered a dream world that had irreversibly become a nightmare. He merely ambled by as familiar faces, as well as unfamiliar, cast him concerned glances. At last, Eragon had found that he had aimlessly wondered to the concealed tent of Nasuada. He entered cautiously, breathing deeply and quietly. Saphira managed to jut in half of her head inside the tent to be noticed. "Eragon!" yelled Arya, with a peculiar solemn face. He did not reply, but hung his head low in shame, realizing that along with Arya, Jumundor and Trianna were also accompaning Nasuada in her tent. A look of utmost relief and shock etched across Nasuada's face, as she bolted towards him and threw her arms around Eragon. Right before Nasuada released her embrace, Eragon was consciously aware that Arya had a fixed gaze upon him, as if her eyes that were boring into his seemed even more knowing than before.

Quickly becoming withdrawn and diffident, Eragon instead looked back down at his boots, which were dirty and battle-worn. "what happened with the new rider and his dragon- was it Galbatorix?" Nasuada questioned, perking her head up. "Please say it's him-please don't tell me that was a new rider," she added, in an amlmost pleading voice. Eragon sighed, shuffled his feet uncomfortably, and gathered courage from within his heart. "Then I would be lying to you, and that-added to all other things- I can not bear," he said shakily, determined to hold his composure. Suddenly more strucken than before, Nasuada, feeling anxiously unaware of what to do with herself, quickly glanced about the room. "Jumundor-Triana-please leave us to a discreet counsel," Nasuada said at last, not unkindly. Without hesitance, Jumundor grufflynodded and left obediently. Triana, however, left reluctantly, not bothering to conceal her bitterness at the matter. When at last she had exited throughout the tent, Nasuada hastily glanced from Saphira to Eragon, curiously concerned. "Please tell me everything that you encountered on the battlefield against that rider-every detail-even petty-for I need to know." Eragon's face burned with diffidence and cautiousness, exhaling deeply, and with the face of Arya's fixed gaze upon him not helping gain control over himself.

"I.." he began, returning his previousstaring at his boots. Quite calmly and knowingly, Arya said, "Something troubles you deeply, Eragon-elda, but try not to let it keep you from withholding information fomr your queen." Horrified that Arya was referring to his undying love for her, he jolted back up, quickly shaking his head. "Oh no-Arya-it's just...today..it's not.." Eragon sighed, feeling worse now than he did when he discovered that Morzan was his father. Feeling out of place, Nasuada glanced at the pair of them questioningly. At last, Arya responded," I see." "Eragon? what happened today? I need to know..." Nasuada then placed her hand on his shoulder, at long last saying, "It's Murtagh, isn't it? He is the Rider?" Shocked, Eragon lookedup at her, puzzled, and asked,"How do you know?" forcing a light chuckle, Nasuada replied, " It made sense, really, after I discovered the twins had betrayed us-when we thought them long since dead-that Murtagh as well had survived. Maybe even joined Galbatorix and betrayed us as well. Am I right?" "Without question, my lady," ERagon answered quietly, inclining his head. Then, even shocking himself, Eragonspilled out his entire encounter with Murtagh, of how he had sworn loyalty to GAlbatorix in the Ancient LAnguage, all the way to how he had learned the true identity of his father. He need not have told them the utmost disgust and loathing upon the matter, for it showed in his face, tone, and overall attitude.

After a long lasting of minutes Eragon had thought of them judging him in a new light, Arya assured," This doesn't change anything about you, Eragon. I know you-you have a good heart." He looked up, solemnly, unable to bite back the tears forming in his eyes. Beside him, Nasuada smiled, adding, "Yes, of course. I agree completely with Arya. You have a tender suol, heart, and mind. No father, brother, mark inflicted upon you-will ever change that nor will it ever have the slightest manipulation over you." She cupped his face, and in a near whisper, said, "The time will come when you have to face your fears, Eragon. Even if that means you wil lstand against anentire army and outnumbered by several Riders. You have to devote your life for what you believe in-even if it means giving up your own life, Eragon-even if it means giving up the things you want most. Can you do that, ERagon? Are you willing?" Removing the dueted gaze he had shared with Arya, he looked back up his queen, promising, "I am, my lady." Silent tears slid down his face, feeling broken and torn inside. Nasuade nodded, and clapped him on his shoulder, as he knew it was his dismisall. "There are things to be discussed tomorrow, Eragon, so don't go too far." Giving his final nod, Eragon turned and left the tent, with the cool, relieving air blowing against him.

_Awaken, Eragon. Please wake up. _Dawn approached, with the burnt orange light slipping in through the darkness. ERagon sat against Saphira's belly as she rustled impatiently, doing her best to rouse him. _Eragon!_ She shouted, shaking him awake. He stirred, groggily groping around to arise to his feet. _NOW he rises..._Saphira mocked, _you're lucky an enemy hasn't come to retrieve you._

_What is it, Saphira?_ he asked sharply.

_You have a visitor._

_What?_

_Look around you- you'll see the girl in a few seconds. _

ERagon swiveled around, and was startled to see a young but intelligent girl before him, with large, unblinking purple-tinted hazel eyes and long black hair ."Hello," she said quietly, unnerved. "Elva," Eragon responded, confused. Elva changed her innocent wide eyes to an unmistakable glare. "Have you forgoteen your promise, Sahdeslayer?" Suddenly remembering that he vowed to undo his ignorant "blessing," he hastily replied, "Forgive me, Elva, I have been selfish." He then spoke strongly in the Ancient Language, undoing her curse, and then placed a new, knowledgable blessing, containing that she

'had a happy, fortunate life filled with joy and protection from evil. After which, he watched as the girl then lost her composed grief, and suddenly became ectastic with glee. "Oh, thank you, Eragon! thank you!" she ran to him and threw herself on him into a tight, grateful hug. He nearly fell over with a surprise and intensity of the embrace. Elva then released him, laughing, and intrepidly stroked Saphira. _And good morning to you, Elva, _responded Saphira contentedly.

The sight was nearly surreal, since Eragon had just a few moments before slumbering alongside Saphira on a smooth,surface of land outside, far amidst the tents of the Varden, which were at least fifty yards away. Sighing, Eragon then reseumded his position against Saphira, leaning against her restlessly. "You are a beautiful dragon. No otther could match in comparison." Elva admired. Saphira purred in reply. _I like her_, she added to Eragon, whom laughed softly inreply. "How old are you, exactly?" he asked smoothly, watching the girl with admiration. "Seven years young, to be exact-but as you know-I have a mind greater than that." Seven-but it was only last year or less than that you were a baby?" Elva giggled, turning her full attention towards him. "Your curse. Even though it has been canceled, it can not cancel out my intelligence. I'd imagine that I belong in a twelve-year-old's body." Eragon opened his mouth to reply, but found no voice of strength, so closed it, and glanced up at the sky. More light had managed to seep into the surroundings, feeling the air with warmth. "You must hate me, Elva. I've left a great impact on your life that some will not understand. Until the day I die, I will always be in your debt. Not that it could possibly matter, but I am terribly sorry for what I've done to you. And you have reason to deny me the pleasures of forgiveness."

Again, Elva giggled playfully. ERagon wondered if she were mocking him hatefully. "Oh but it does matter, Eragon. You free me of other's misfortune and blessed my life with happiness. My mind remains intelligent enough, but that I do not regreet nor wish to be removed. It would be like me telling you that you will lose all memory of your life, however long or short it seems, and start over. And as for your apology, I accept. I forgive you." ERagon smiled weakly, still feeling shamed and wicked for ever harming a little girl, intentionally or not. Before he could say more to her, she dreamily added, "I'm going to leave you noe, Shadeslayer, and go sleep peacefully." She then skipped away, quite happily and oblivious to the evils of war.

_Do you think she'll be happy, now? _ Eragon asked Saphira shamefully.

_You heard her just as I did. She'll be fine. She's already rejoicing. _

He nodded, and once more, arose to his feet. Eragon quickly glanced about the Varden, watching as they awoke and stirred, starting new fires and cooking a light breakfast. He nearly jumped in bewilderment as he recognized an elf woman walk towards a small girl, whom Eragon knew as Elva. _Arya..._ ERagon started, sighing slowly.

_  
Eragon,_ Saphira replied, watching him suspiciously. _Isn't she just gorgeous, Saphira? Just look at her-no other could be as kind and caring as she-nor match her grace._ Saphira snorted. _She's alright._ Eragon watched as Arya stood there watching the girl, Elva. He assumed that she was explaining her transformation. After a few seconds, Arya looked up, straight at Eragon. Swiftly turning away as if he had not seen, ERagon accidentally tripped over his own hasty feet, toppling over. Furious with himself, heleapt back up, praying that Arya hadn't seen. Saphira chortled. _Oh, ha, ha, _Eragon snapped. _You really shouldn't mourn over her. Two too many times has it nearly ruined your friendship with her over the matter. I know it is hard, but try to forget her. You can't live your life in heartace-filled sorrow. You deserve better. And besides, it's distracting you form what needs to be done. We are at war. _

Eragon defiantly shook his head. _You speak nonsense. I love Arya. Damned will I be if I ever willingly forget her!_

_Then do it unwillingly!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Purple Stone: Eragon Book 3_

**Chapter Two: "Trazid du hjarta" **

"I can no say that I am pleased with you, Murtagh. But I can also not deny that I do not understand your own actions." Galbatorix straightened up in his throne, laying his forearms lightly upon the armrests. Murtagh bowed ever lower to the floor. They were in a rather large, magnificent dragon hold in the topmost floors of Galbatorix's castle. I included a large fire grate at least seven feet wide and four feet tall at the farthest wall from the wide entrance; the mighty throne on the left wall with the black dragon perched beside it; a diamond encrusted ruby chandelier hanging from the high ceiling; an assorted amount of bookshelves bordering each other at the right wall; and ten wooden pikes of various heads among the corners of the room. Several feet behind Murtagh sat his red dragon, Thorn, who lazily flipped its tongue occasionally out of boredom. Four heavily armed guards stood near the entrance, as well as one sorcerer on the opposite wall, in the outside of the room.

Galbatorix cleared his throat, and icily continued, "I understand that you were once companions with the boy-and now you're aware he is your brother by blood-it is a shame that he has become my enemy. Your enemy. Our enemy." Murtagh lowered his gaze, grimacing. "Next time you meet with that ignorant fool and his weakling dragon," Galbatorix began, edging forward of his royal chair, "I expect you to capture him-despite the costs!" His uproar had not startled Murtagh, whome merely nodded in reply. Galbatorix bit his lip, and all color drained form his face and tone. "Swear to me in the Ancient Language that next time you meet Eragon, you will cpture him and his dragon." The fire's cackling boom was the only noise in the thick atmosphere. After a few second's hesitance, Murtagh sighed and obediently swore. "Good..." Galbatorix responded emotionlessly.

"Now...back to his dragon...what's her name again?" "Saphira, Sire,"Murtagh replied immediately. A wide grin etched across Galbatorix's face as he further interrogated, "And she can breathe fire now- is that correct?" Murtagh nodded, keeping his face level with the ground. Galbatorix cackled maliciously. His beast beside him snorted, while Thorn only clicked his tongue. "More grown then I thought she was. Excellent." "Master, do you know what to do for ERagon?" All of the King's wicked happiness evaded him, leaving instead a stout, bloated face which was flushing a violent shade of purple. " What do you mean?" he snapped bitterly. Murtagh shivered, and wuickly stammered, "Well I mean about his strength and power-my lord-it far exceeds that of my own." Galbatorix huffed roughly, pursing his lips rigidly. "There are ways to defeat him, Murtagh-no matter his strength. You must remember that even though he overpowers you-I am several times more powerful than he is. But...even so, Murtagh-you know ebough to destroy him with nothing but my advice-you don't need me to lend you my strength." A sudden flowing of joyous hope reached Murtagh, who couldn't help but smirk. He looked up, taking his glare off of the floor, and eagerly questioned," But how? I'll do anything, just guide me, Master." Galbatorix grinned smugly, scooting even further to the edge of his seat, whispering, "What vexes all men-even young ones?"

Murtagh's glee instantly vanished, instead transforming into a stupified look of puzzledness. "Riches...gold?" he asked uncertainly. Galbatorix slowly shook his head. "Women-Murtagh-women." Murtagh chortled. "You mean lust, Hinus?" Galbatorix deeply exhaled. He the surprisingly leapt from his chair, and roughly slapped Murtagh on the side of his head. The man gasped, fiercely rubbing his head in pain. "Ignorance should be a sin, you fool! I said 'vexes all men!' 'Vex!' Not pleases! Lust is a term for gruff, selfish men-not people like Eragon! Are you stupid-do you have any damn bit of sense!" Galbatorix then paced about the dragon hold impatiently, throwing up his arms in disgust as he spoke. "Forgive me, Master," Murtagh responded quietly, facing the empty throne before him. Shruikan seemed pleased at the turmoil in the room, animatedly following the conversation. After a few, unpleasant minutes, Galbatorix stopped pacing and huffed once more, saying, "Our minds were linked, remember, at the battle scene. I remember you telling me that you sensed something within him that was inevitably strong, however, you could not place it. I, on the other hand, know exactly what it was. He then walked up to Murtagh from behind, bending over to hiss in his ear. "He loves. The boy's in love, Murtagh. And not the family love for his dragon-for that is strong, yes-but a love in which would damage him from the 'inside.' Now we can't kill Saphira-but we can kill his heart. Do you have any idea who he longs for?" Murtagh shook his head, dumbfounded, as he awaited intently.

Galbatorix rolled his eyes, disappointed, and spat, "Fool. You have the same amount of mind power as an Urgal halfling! Could you not snese it? Ugh-" He paused, mimicking a gag. "Some elf. But she's well protected. Besides-there's a more definite way of striking him dead just with the knowledge." He paused once more, as if pleased with himself, and bent even closer to Murtagh's ear, and colorlessly hissed, "There is a spell. A very fatal, damaging spell that even shades have trouble surviving against. With the knowledge of his emotional heart we can attack his literal heart. It is a very rare, effective, cunning spell that is evil and requires plenty of strength. Have you heard of it?" horrified, Murtagh shook his head. "Yes...but no...you were the one that taught me, Master, but...even though...we can't...that's.." That's what, exactly? It would be in your good health if you held your tongue and refrained fomr finishing your statement." Galbatorix retorted sharply. "we will attack his heart-his very soul-Murtagh." Trazid du hjarta," Murtagh gasped.

--(please review)--


	3. Chapter 3

_Purple Stone: Eragon Book Three_

_(From now on, I will put quotation marks on the italices, so as to separate Eragon's thoughts from Saphira's)_

**Chapter Three: Troublesome News**

"Waise heil," commanded Eragon, holding his right hand palm down at the wounds of an injured dwarf. Grateful, the dwarf leapt up form the rough cot he had been resting on and said, "Bless you, Argetlam!" Eragon grinned and clapped him on the shoulder before arising to his feet. "Good luck to you and your family, brother," he added smoothly. The dwarf nodded, in reply. "_That one was close to death, he was",_ Eragon thought wearily. Saphira, who strolled beside him after he left the tent and walked across the Burning Plains, sleepily inclined her head. The pair of them had been helping some of the Varden bury their dead, and hauling Galbatorix's soldiers to the side, awaiting their cremation.

It was a rather unpleasant sight, considering that the crisp ground smoldered faintly, mixing the air with a sick scent of the fresh dead and acrid smoke. After a few hours or so of assistance, a limited number of bodies lay across the Burning Plains, giving it a more deserted, desolate look. "_This many lost in only the first day of the beginning of a costly war. No one is safe anymore, Eragon". _Eragon sighed in return, grimly aware that he was supposed to meet agin with Nasuada this morning. He patted Saphira wearily, cringing at the thought of being so foolish as to forget such a counsel. Suddenly quickening his pace to a jog, Eragon headed towards the Queen's tent, racking his brans for an explanation to give to her.

As soon as he entered, he noticed that Nasuada had been involved in a heated discussion with Trianna. Both women's faces were red and contorted, quite near to releasing fire form their throats just as easily as Saphira. "_We are masters at interjecting in others' affairs",_ Saphira snorted. "_Tell me about it",_ Eragon answered. Nasuada jerked her head at him, flustered. "Forgive me for intruding, my lady," he said apolegetically. Trianna's face twitched; Nasuada sighed. "No matter. Trianna-our debate is dismissed for the moment." Jaw dropping indignantly, Trianna stomped out of the tent, just as rudely as the day before. "_Foul woman"_, Saphira growled after Triana jostled past her. "You wanted to see me?" Eragon questioned rhetorically.

Nasuada sniffed. "It would have been better for you to have been here earlier. There's word reaching fast that there has been hints of Shades joining the empire-and heading south towards Surda for another attack." Eragon's eyes widened, panicked and horrified. "A 'group,' you say?" "Five." Eragon whislted, uttering a disbelieving laugh. "We're in trouble now, Hinus, and I daresay predict that unless we come up with a swift defensive plan, then we're doomed," he panted, ruffling his hair. "_Just five more Durzas", _spat Saphira. Nasuada shook her head, distraught, and sarcastically stated, "Oh no, the Varden is fine!" He was taken aback how much more distressed Nasuada had become and how bitterly mocking her sarcasm had been.

Nevertheless, Nasuada continued, "The only thing I can hope for is for the Elves' arrival. Even with them there will be plenty of bloodshed to go around-making yesterday's battle look like a simple dispute." "_How many Elves shall come before it's too late?"_ Saphira asked through Eragon. "Ask Angela-I don't know!" Nasuada taunted irratably. "Just let me know how I can be of assistance, my lady. For I am willing." Nasuada smiled weakly, slightly shaking her head. She sank languidly into the depths of her wooden chair, scooting up to the small, circular table before her. Various scrolls, papers, and cloths piled high upon the table, strewn across randomly. Eragon and Saphira watched her drowsily, understanding the struggle that Nasuada must have felt. With a heavy sigh, she leaned forward at the table, and laid her chin upon her folded hands. "That's the 'problem,' Eragon, I don't know what to do anymore!"

Slightly taken aback by her succinct claim, Eragon struggled within himself to find the right words of comfort to say, all the while remaining a determined composure. "First the problem was money for food and settlement-then I got money-fixed the issue. Then there was a debate over where my people would settle! Fixed that-well-kind of..." She slapped her forearm on the the table impatiently, grimacing. Eragon opened his mouth to speak, but Nasuada cut him off, exclaiming, "Now the new ordeal is food! What good is money if there is no food? And to top it all off, diseases and sicknesses are spreading like wildfire all over the place, and all because we don't have much room to spread out! I want open air, freedom, and just plain openness. And if that's not enough turmoil within the Vardenand everyone else rebellingagainst Galbatorix, war is approaching head on!"

She then pounded the table with a clenched fist, close to foaming at the mouth. "But my Lady...Nasuada...we're still in the Burning Plains," Eragon reproached cautiously. "When we go back to Surda there will be an extra foot or two and food to go 'round." "No, no, no..." Nasuada shook her head. "That damn King Orrin and I had a row...did you not notice he and his lot march back to Surda, and more of our lot come from Surda? Hence the children amongst their families!" Eragon choked with shock, outrageously angry. Saphira clawed at the ground , snorting puffs of steam from her flared nostrils. "How could this happen? He is your ally!" Nasuada refused to answer, keeping her eyes squinting with furious hatred. Eragon stamped the ground, fuming. "_Where was I when this occurred?"_ he gruffly asked Saphira.

"_After battle. Right before we entered the tent and you spilt information about Murtagh as the new Rider. Jumundor and Trianna were trying to persuade Nasuada to reconsile. You were too exhausted to have noticed, and there was nothing you could've done about it". _Eragon gritted his teeth, waiting for Nasuada to explain herself and to rechannel his thought to make a nasty retort to Saphira. He eventually thought it best to hold his bitterness in. Eragon shuffled impatiently, and once more stated, "How?" Nasuada calmly answered, "He wanted more money and I refused. He spoke of how ignorant I was and I simply told him I didn't need him or his damn land-I was withdrawing my people." "So you are going to make them travel back to Farthen Dur?" he asked sharply.

"Of course not! We are still going back to Surda...just discreetly and in the bit of unihabited land. My pride may fool me...but that man..." She contorted her red face in a disgusting twist of fury. "What did King Orrin have to say about this?" Eragon snapped, picturing the man curled up on the ground. Nasuada stiffened, and replied, "Oh, he pleaded with me to reconsider and told me he didn't need any more money after all..." Eragon huffed. He was revolted at the idea of not being told that this had happened, and even more outraged that it had happened, and slightly angered at Nasuada for ordering a rather unneccessary move for her people. Almost as if she had read his mind, Nasuada hastily justified, "I have always put my people's best interest at heart, Eragon, and I will not tolerate some bully barking orders to me. I don't care who they are. Just don't disrespect me, or bad things will happen."

Eragon couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Food, illness, land, and war," he summoned, shaking his head. Nasuada's face hardened. She rose frmo her seat and headed towards him and Saphira, guiding them to the exit. "The company retreats back to Surda at dawn tomorrow." Standing at the edge of the doorway, Eragon sighed, "You make it sound as if we lost and more is coming." "It's just a whirlwind of obstacles, huh?" She answered anxiously.

Eragon was surprised by how late the day had aged in what seemed merely hours as he stepped out of Nasuada's tent. It was at least in the late afternoon, just minutes before suset. Several people of the Varden were huddled around fires near their tents, cooking meals and such. Most of the children had stopped roaming around, as the parents were keeping a close eye on them as nightfall was approaching. Still shocked by the withdrawal of the remainder of the Varden from Surda, Eragon couldn't help but gawk at the children and elderly around the Burning Plains. "_I assume I was too dazed earlier to notice more people here",_ he thought aloud. Saphira, who was always at his side, replied, "_More? Bagh! After many died from battle, it's just as if more came in to fill in their places". _Eragon raised his eyebrows in agreement. "_Didn't notice, I suppose"._ "_How could you, after having to see dozens of dying men earlier today?"_ Saphira said rhetorically. He refrained from answering, since the rememberance of the many whom he couldn't heal troubling him inside.

Eragon and Saphira trudged back to their area behind a large rock, as it had not been necessary to burden the Varden with making an additional tent for him. The ground there was a smooth, flat dirt patch whereas the rest of the Burning Plains were covered in crisp, rotted grasses and weeds, shrubs here and there. Plopping a comfortable spot down on the ground, Eragon heaved a great sigh, leaning against the rock. Saphira sat beside him neatly on her haunches, making her resemble an overly sized perched dog. eragon chuckled at the thought, subconsciously stroking her. "_Humans are a very queer race", _she purred. "_Ha, but that's the thing-I'm not quite a human"._After a short pause, Eragon apprehensively questioned, "_What do you think will become of them-the Varden?" _Saphira pondered a moment, then thought, "_How so?" "Well, you heard Nasuada-there are all sorts of problems going on. How exactly can we fight the Empire if we're going to diew from starvation and illnesses? Galbatorix will win before we even get a chance to rebel!" _Saphira slowly shook her head in disagreement, patient as always.

"_We must look towards hope if we wish to survive this war. You forget that elves are an important ally, and once they become more involved, there will be a turn for the better. You'll see." _Eragon snorted impulsively. _"Oh look, we have a wise philosopher-harken to her advice._

Saphira stiffened defensively, with miniscule puffs of smoke evading her open nostrils. _"You didn't mean that."_ The words stung Eragon and rattled in his bones, reminding him of a sudden cackling flame. Shame trickled down his spine at his rash statement. _"You're right-I'm sorry. It's just that everything is jumbled out of place, like one giant jigsaw puzzle that's impossible to piece together." _

Saphira loosened a bit, an understanding smile illuminating her face. _"It's all right. I'm going to go catch a meal. I will join you later." _He grinned. _"Don't be gone too long."_ Immediately after his words, Saphira leapt up into the sky, expanding her tremendous wings as she soared through the gleaming sky of several intertwining colors of the sunset. Eragon watched her fly off until she was merely a spec in the distance. The sun was becoming barely visible above the horizon, as this emotionally stressful day came to an end, Eragon closed his heavy eyes and leaned wearily against the rock, a mixture between half-sleep and half-awake. Subconscious memories of the battle previously flashed through his mind. Eragon remembered swords clashing, Saphira hissing, and outcries in the distance. "We are mirroring images...brother..." "Brother." "Brother."

"Eragon." He jumped up, alert and startled. Shaking the echoes of troublesome quotes from his head, he quickly rubbed the sleep from his eyes, aware that it had now become completely dark. As soon as he had regained his senses, he glanced down at a peculiar young girl. "Eragon?" she repeated smoothly. Eragon stifled a yelp as he noticed that Elva had become much taller, closely relating to the heighth of his elbow. Her hair was longer, falling to her waist. Elva's purple glazed eyes sparkled under the moonlight. "Hello, Elva. You've changed, haven't you?" She beamed. "For the last time. I'm guesing that I'm twelve, now. I can't go backward or forward anymore, so I suppose I'm in my 'natural' state."

Eragon suddenly realized that she wasn't as eerie as before, and that she seemed more of a casually-odd child. Eragon grinned at the term. Elva then held out her hand, which was clutching a glimmering gemstone. "Out on the Burning Plains. A Varden soldier recognized it as yours and told me to return it to you." Eragon gently picked it up from the palm of her hand, slipping it into his pants pocket. Elva curtsied, turning to leave. "Thank you." She stopped, swiveling back around. "Eragon?" she asked tentatively. He raised his eyebrows, puzzled at her change in demeanor. "Yes, Elva? Everything all right?" he asked reproachfully. She shook her head in response, and found herself gazing blankly at the night stars. Elva then sighed and made a stern, concentrated face that Eragon was certain it was a pout. Feeling incredibly awkward and unaware of how to respond, he solemnly approached to her side, kneeling on his knees slightly. Placing a light hand on her shoulder, Eragon stealthily retrieved the ruby gem from his pocket and held his palm outstretched. "You know, I don't really need this. You are more than welcome to keep it."

Lowering her gaze form the starry sky, Elva gingerly placed her hand on top of his, folding his fingers over the gem. "No, silly. Maybe if I were a dwarf a rock would work for me, but I am not but a human girl, and rocks, polished or not, do not catch my eye." She smiled at Eragon's confusion as he slipped the gem back into his pocket. Carefully choosing his words, he at last summoned, "Then what is bothering you?" Elva's grin surprisingly subsided, her graveness returning. "Some question your loyalty to the Varden. they wonder why the other rider managed to flee away without much of a fight. It's pretty balanced, really. Some think that your intentions are pure, but others, well . . ." Her voice trailed off loosely. Eragon couldn't help but become horrified at the information.

Utterly dumbfounded, he finally gasped, "What?" Elva's eyes swiftly scanned against him; he wondered what the girl was thinking about so intently. "People want to know why the rider lives, and why you didn't do a thing to stop him." Blood rushed through Eragon's veins, pulsing with utmost revulsion. Hastily controlling himself for Elva's sake, he managed to reply, "Well that just shows how much 'they' know. Didn't these people see me lose after entering a duel against Mu-the rider?" Eragon hoped that she hadn't noticed him nearly revealing the rider's identity. Elva rose her eyebrows. "I'm assuming no, since that has never before been mentioned." He choked in despise at the news. "Is this what's bothering you, then, you think I'm a traitor?" Elva stiffened. "That's not fair! I don't know. How can I judge something that I don't have a clue on?"

Eragon nodded, saying, "For that, you are wide. If only others would agree with your theory." "But still, Dragon Rider, I wish to personally ask you, myself, where does your allegiance lie?" Rising to his feet, Eragon bit his lip, then answered, "The Varden, first and foremost. Queen Nasuada, who I 've sworn fealty to. Saphira, my dragon, my best friend. The people-or more speciifically, the innocents." He sighed afterwards, awaiting a reply. She solemnly nodded. "Good. Now I really trust you." Walking back off towards the cluster of tents, Elva made her way downhill. Impatiently curious, Eragon yelled, "By the way, who are these people?" "The counsel of Elders, of course! Who else?"


	4. Chapter 4

Purple Stone: Book 3

**Chapter Four: Tales and Travels**

It was less than an hour before dawn, as all was silent and motionless. Not a single breath of a slight breeze or any sort of creature hummed. It was as if the Burning Plains were forever more deceased and inhibited. Light, surrepticious footsteps skillfully made their way from a tent, wondering towards the edge of the plains that held a view of the mountians several yards away. So cautiously the footsteps maneuvered that not one blade of burnt grass was out of place.

Suddenly they stopped, and a slim, graceful figure gazed at the magnificent Beor Mountains in the far distance. Only trained eyes could effortlessly see everything in spectacular detail, despite the thick blanket of darkness. Tossing back her shiny black hair, Arya slowly breathed in the nature surroundings that were so afar from the emptiness of the Burning Plains; unaware of yet another pair of feet that had easily trailed her without being detected.

"I find you most difficult to read, not to mention near impossible to predict your future," Angela announced. Unsurprised, Arya swiveled around, facing the witch with her fixed gaze with her prominent emerald eyes. "So sorry you find it _difficult _to sum up my life with your sorcery," she replied mockingly."

Angela chuckled, and folded her arms neatly as she leaned against a boulder. "It is not my position to judge strangers, if that's what you mean," the witch retorted icily. Arya snorted, turning her back on her. Unnerved, Angela added, "The reason I find it difficult to read you is that your muddled, contradicting emotions are well hidden deep within you." Rolling her eyes and huffing, Arya taunted, "Really?" She swung back around and boldly faced Angela with bitterness. "Really, really," Angela chimed.

Tension in the atmosphere was rapidly increasing, so thick it could easily been sliced by a blunt knife. Both women were defiantly heeding to their opinions and beliefs, too tenacious to let their guard down.

"Then tell me, dear Angela," Arya began hotly, "what is ever so wrong with me?" "You don't trust anyone, not even those you love or those that trust you." "That's not true-I can name a number of people that I would place my life in the hands of without a second's hesitance," Arya exclaimed confidently. "Ironic, isn't it, that one's literal life is much more quickly given than one's figurative heart?" Angela responded rhetorically, as if on cue.

Arya bit her tongue and stiffened defensively. "That is a choice of my own, and not yours to address-let alone judge." As I told you before, I do not _judge. _You fail to see the importance of courtship, and, most of all, romantic love whatsoever. But do not despair, delicate elf, there is one who wishes to marry you. A fellow acquantance you are fmailiar with will soon begin courtship with you, and although you can't see it now-you will eventually become fond of blossoming _romance_."

Arya threw her arms down in impatience, angrily retorting," If you're talking about Eragon, then drop it, that matter is barely his business let alone yours!" Angela's composure snapped, as boiling blood hacked through her veins with wretchedness.Scowling, she snapped, "Don't interrupt me, you foul defiler of common respect! I was going to add that hearts will be ripped and torn as they evolve into having eyes, all at the cost of hundreds of deaths! Those who seem to hate you will torture your subconscious soul as you have them. And, what puts the cherry on top of the cake, is that _you_ meantioned Eragon, not me! Thge boy has NO PLACE in our discussion! It does startle me though that he was the first to come to your mind, after a more seeming to be more prominent has been involved. As I part, take note that my predictions and readings aren't lightly given, that only notable figures have ever received my advice, taken gratefully or not."

Arya scowled, fuming, "I thought you said I was _difficult_ to read." Angela ignored her, and stormed off, carelessly cursing under her breath. As dim light spilt through the open, several people of the Varden protruded from their tents, packing up their belongings in preparation to leave the hated Burning Plains. Raging, Arya spat, "That is not but a witch's tale!"

Nasuada proudly left her tent, beckoning to her personal servants to pack it up now that she had awoken. She headed out the front of the mass of people, preparing to make a swift, respectful speech. Within minutes, Jumundor had found himself at her side loyally. Nasuada nodded in greeting, in which he groggily did the same. Raising her arm high to silence them all, several slowly caught on and quieted the others. She nervously cleared her throat, and found her confidence.

"We arrived in these plains only three days ago, expecting an important battle here. We were right in thinking this because we only had to wait until dawn next day before attack. finishing in the evening the following day, we've spent these past day or so burying dead, healing the wounded, and waiting in case of further attack-which has yet to come. Since food supplies are running low-and it has become clear that it is pointless to remain in this place. Today we shall return to Surda, and there I will promise to mend the issues faced over food and settlement against King Orrin. I refuse to move the majority of my people to Surda only to lead them to to downfall and death. Now settlement will still be cramped-although I will give out more room- but we will always be crmaped until we can safely enter the land under the control of the Empire. We can do this when we triumph at war."

Eragon and Saphira silently made their way form the clearing to the back of the cluster of people who were intently listening to Nasuada's speech. _"You told me that you wouldn't take long with your hunting last night-this is the first time I've seen you besides last night,"_ Eragon complained half-heartedly, barely paying attention to Nasuada's words. _"I had to travel far before I found any bit of wildlife fit to eat even for me. When I returned, you were dead asleep!" _Eragon couldn't suppress his chuckle. SAphira nudged him, she too bearing a grin.

"...so everyone stay close, follow carefully, as we leave in a few minutes," Masuada concluded. immediately afterwards the cluster dispersed, bustling about here and there. Naturally Eragon and Saphira headed to her side.

"Good morning," he said sleepily. Nasuada nodded alongside Jumundor. "Eragon, there is a favor that I need to ask of you," she said, becoming serious. He waited expectantly. "I wish you to fly with Saphira a little way ahead so that an ambush won't get the better of us. I'll need you to fly low so spies can'r easily spot you-not that it would matter much anyway." "Of course, my lady," Eragon accepted. "Excellent," NAsuada smiled. She wordlessly walked away with Jumundor, becoming involved in a heated discussion. Wondering aimlessly around with Saphira, Eragon openly recapped all that had happened with Elva the previous night.

_"I wonder the place in which Jumundor took in the matter,"_ she said in response. _"Same here. And I also fear the impact the counsel will have over the people of the Varden." "Well, it will change their perspective of you- I mean . . . they practically worship you! What could possibly turn the people against you?" "The fact that I'm Morzan's son,"_ Eragon guiltily replied, becoming grave. Saphira stopped in her tracks, surprisingly stern. _"You heard Nasuada and arya on that subject- no blood bondage holds power over you! How could you of all people, Eragon; who knows yourself more than anyone else, judge yourself over heritage?"_

Eragon scratched his elbow, buying time, and then ruffled his hair. _I don't know- it's just that ancestry often bounds generations on a limited leash." "Then you shall watch me break it with pleasure." "It's not a physical thing, Saphira. Look-for example-before the dragons and Menoa tree changed who I was, my race of a human confined me to limited abilities. Once I was changed, which is a rare thing, I easily excelled at everything I had once before thought difficult. Why should blood ties be any different?" _

Saphira snorted impatiently, searching herself for an answer. Before she could reply, Eragon added, _"If information of this gets out to the people-or counsel-my reputation will drop dramatically." "You're changing the subject!" "It's related!" _ Before Saphira could respond, she was once more interrupted as Elva approached dreamily, once more. "Hello," she murmured, pating Saphira fearlessly. _"We'll talk about this later, little one." _Eragon ignored her, shaking off his irratation due to Elva's presence. "Did you sleep good?" he asked. She nodded, still intently fixed on Saphira's beautiful blue scales.

"I heard you were riding ahead with her, so I thought maybe I could join you?" she bluntly questioned. Casting a quick glance at Eragon, Saphira stated, _"I don't mind." _ "Yes, yes, of course. We'll be glad to have company." Elva grinned, still in a trance, "Most riders I've heard of in stories wouldn't agree with your decision. They would be jealous of their dragon. Are you jealous?" The question caught Eragon by surprise. Although he had not just minded the idea of others affeection towards Saphira, there was still an occasionally inexpicable twinge of frustration-too small to detect. "Not at all," he answered, unaware of Saphira's gaze upon him. "I would be," Elva inquired honestly. Eragon smiled warmly.

The next ten minutes or so was spent as everyone double checked their belongings, packing items on their backs, horses, wagons, and simple carriages; as well Eragon strapping on a light, swift saddle onto Saphira's back. An order was formed wordlessly, almost without thought, with the carriages and wagons in the back part of the line; horses for riding and carrying belongings in the middle; and few official carriages in front (with guards in frontmost part of line); and walkers mingled in throughout. Most weren't planning on walking a full day and a half. At the blow of a horn as a signal, the Varden began to head back to Surda.

Easily heaving Elva onto Saphira's saddle, Eragon climbed on behind her, holding his hands on the handle before her as if to shield and block Elva in case she were to fall. "Ready?" asked Eragon eagerly. "Let's go," Elva replied. Less than a second later, Saphira extended her large wings, leapt from the ground, and soared about thirty feet high. Besides a beaming face, Elva made no reaction to the newexperience of dragon riding. After a while Eragon allowed himself to loosen his grip on the saddle, relaxing. Then, without warning, Saphira barrled over the two or three times before zooming up and down. Stomach churning, he told Saphira mentally and verbally, "Don't do that again." She would chuckle. With glee, Elva exclaimed, "I love it! Do it again! Come on!" Saphira cheerfully obliged numerous times despite a protesting Eragon pleading otherwise.

After a while, the ride slowed and became more calm, graceful state in which Elva and Eragon could have safely fell asleep. The view was the best only if there was much to see. After a few hours of the Burning Plains the land became firmer, greener, and lacked the strong odor of acrid smoke. Trees towered every few feet or so, small streams lurked every few miles, and the horizon stretched far and wide. No mountains, cliffs, hills, ses, or any notable pleasing feature appeared on the first day so far.

Although many of the varden were happy to see fresh, living trees again after the desolate plains, the sight quickly became boring and underrated. To most, they were jsut traveling through a pretty basic land, not too different form Surda. By the time that the first signs of dusk appraoched, the Varden below Saphira, Eragon, and Elva had halted, preparing for camping the night.

_"Let's go landnow," _Eragon suggested. _"Would I do anythng but?"_ Landing beside an official royalty carriage, Eragon helped Elva off Saphira's back and on level ground. Without speaking, the girl turned and skipped towards the cluster of people, particularly one woman. Aftr a closer look, he realized that Elva was explaining her experience with Arya, who patiently listened. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Elva," she responded when the girl had finished, Still within hearing range of the two, Eragon pretended not to notice, as he was actually caught by surprise when Arya advanced towards him, uttering his name in a smooth tone. Gingerly setting aside Saphira's saddle, Eragon looked at her expectantly.

"Arya...what can I do for you?" he said with a forced, friendly smile. Placing one hand on her hip, Arya returned the gesture and replied, "Elva is in love with Saphira-she might even steal her if it wasn't for her size." Eragon laughed. "Is that so?" "Afraid it is." Saphira wondered off and followed Elva somewhere, leaving the pair of them quite alone. Immenently becoming dumbfounded and feeling awkward, as always in Arya's presence, Eragon thwarted his rbain for an appropriate thing to say. Any sort of conversation builder whatsoever would help. Before he could do so, however, she became more serious and grave. "Do you remember NAsuada informing you that a group of Shades had sworn loyalty to the EMpire and King Galbatorix?" "Now that you remind me, I do recall that bit of news. Very frightened at the thought, actually." "Good. You should be. Everyone as well, for that matter. together they can easily demolish an army of soldiers, with the right spells or so. the reason why I'm discussing this is because I've heard rumors of the group being spotted in Melian, not too far from Surda's boundary. Tomorrow we should remain extra cautious as they will most likelymentally search through unmarked lands and attack us individually without really harming the 'Varden,' if you understand my meaning." eragon frowned, nodding. "Great." "and that's not all. Murtagh is supposed to be with them."


	5. Chapter 5

Purple Stone: Eragon 3

Chapter Five: Misery

Eragon grimaced in disgust, fighting the urge to gag. "Let me guess, the Shades brought him along because he's a _rider,_" he said irratably. "Other way around," Arya began. "Once Galbatorix was certain that the Shades were sucked into his reign, then he ordered Murtagh to join them, searching for us not only as a whole, but for your dragon."

He refused to consider the possible traumatic idea. It seemed too out of the ordinary to make even the slightest sense. How could he worry about an attack when everybody had got out of their warrior-mode. At that point in his life, the thought seemed surreal. He glanced over to where Elva and Saphira were sitting. Both were perched perfectly content.

"Eragon," Arya interjected quietly. Snatched from his dream world of thoughts, Eragon uttered, "Yes..." "You know what this means, don't you?" she asked, somewhat concerned. Barely listening, Eragon shook his head, ignoring her gaze. At the same time when he had started feeling protective over Elva and Saphira when discovering about the lurking danger, he as well felt a yearning pull towards Arya. No matter how hard he tried to push the idea out of his head, the thought tortured him repeatedly with no signs of weakening. Numerous thoughts flooded to his head as he procured a blurred vision.

Every sound of movement, voices, people bustling about, and nature sounds slurred, distorting. Eragon's vision became a blur, as any sense of light, movement, faces, or any other, slowed and churned. Before he knew it, he was gasping, suddenly feeling drained of any strength he had. "Eragon!" a worried voice nearby shouted. He had heard nothing, and barely saw a large figure enlargen, and the slight sensation of falling forward. Someone or something caught him, lowering him to the ground. Breaths came in agonizing strokes, nerves of all sorts throbbed mercilessly.The only sound Eragon could hear was a slow massive beating of a drum in his eardrums-his heartbeat.

Laying flat on the ground, suffering, was the body of Eragon before Arya. Panicking, she screamed orders for help. She knelt down before him, muttering, "Wasie heil," multiple times with no effect. Pushing to her side was Elva and Saphira, Nasuada, Trianna, Orrin, and a few others as spectators. "What happened to him?" Nasuada questioned hastily. "We were talking and then he became disoriented and toppled over," Arya replied sternly.

Eragon was now unconscious and rapifly fading. Every few moments or so his body would twitch unnaturally. Unnerved, Elva remained stiff and solemn, standing nearby as if a statue. Saphira, on the other hand, stormed around impatiently, aprrehensively, waiting for someone to claim him a dying man so she could smolder them at the thought. She knew he couldn't die, or she would die. She knew he couldn't - or woudln't- leave her without a goodbye,

Several more people had rushed around the scene now, tensions of frantic uproar rising steadily. While still not revealing any emotion, Arya also could not suppress her growing anxiety. "Did he overdo his magic abilities?" Orik asked, nervously pulling the tip of his beard, "No! Aren't you people listening? Isn't there a healer of some sort going to try to revive him? He's dying!" Arya slammed her fist on the ground, resulting in a large indention deeping in the ground.

Saphira roared, evading streams of smoke from flared nostrils. Nasuada shook bitterly, enraged at being yelled at like that. "What about you, Arya, you are the all powerful elf!" Arya hesitated, and bitterly snapped, "I'm putting up boundaries so that anybody who might have attacked him won't attack everybody else and kill us all!" The observers created an uproar, frightened at the prospect.

Angrily ignoring them all, Arya bent over and roughly shook Eragon, knowing it wouldn't do anything but possibly snap his neck. She leaned over to his slim but thick chest and listened. "He's faintly breathing," she murmured. She huffed, and became so infuriated that she even had the nerve to beat against his chest, as if to bang him back into gear. Several began to stop her, but Arya had already jumped up to her feet. Panting, she anxiously ran her fingers through her hair.

"It looks as if he's not breathing..." Nasuada whispered tentatively, eying him with tremendous concern. "Really! Why wouldn't I know that already?" Arya bellowed, and further added, "He needs medicine." Containing herself, Nasuada threw her arms at the people, urging them away. "Carry the boy to a separate area near a tree. Make sure it's secluded from others, and start a fire. Saphira, accompany him if you will," Nasuada ordered.

Returning her attention back to Arya, she responded, "Medicine? It wil ltake a while before my people can figure out what is wrong with him and what he needs in the first place. And I'm willing to bet that the medicine will require a lot of money and effort, something we have little to spare while we are at war." Arya stomped the ground in annoyance. "And what is that supposed to mean?" Arya accused. "It means we could use the Elves' help right now, Arya! What happened to long-lost promises?"

"Do not hold me accountable for my mother's doing! You know good and damn well that I've continuously strained myself to aid the rebellion against the EMpire! Do not dare assume predjudice over me because of my people!" Nasuada scowled. "Your people hide behind trees while mine die every day. what will it take for your queen to be cure fomr her blindness! The Varden has little hope already so why ignor it?" "What does this have to do with saving Eragon? Letting him die is destroying ALL hope we have of victiory! Why won't you directly address THAT issue, HINUS?!?"

A sharp, painful silence betwene them emerged with monstrousity. Both women were glaring, stubborn and impenetrable. Finally, Nasuada retorted in a deathly quiet voice, "Because I can't, even though I want to. Maybe, again, I'd be able to if the Varden received financial and physical aid from our supposed ally- which brings us back to our previous disoute." Arya huffed. "Then I'll take him back to ellesmera on Saphira. We should arrive there within a few days, three if we pace ourselves and five at the most. Besides . . . both the Varden and the Empire are wordlessly recovering a break until the next move is decided. After all, the battle was a bit bloodier than anybody had expected. We both received great losses, and I'll be surprised if either makes a move anytime soon.

Nasuada sighed. "That's where you're terribly mistaken. Now is the perfect time to make a surprise attack and kill thousands-avenging our dead. And have you forgotten of the Shades? We need Eragon and you here! No matter-it is a lose-lose situation and I might as well do it your way. Take him-and do it with haste."

Arya swiveled around and briskly walked towards the area that Eragon was taken. Within minues ,she reached the spot, where a few healers were huddled around him. The head healer glanced up at Arya and awkwardly pleaded, "Please do somehting about the dragon. She keeps preventing us from doing surgery!" Arya glanced around, and surprisingly enough, Saphira was placing her claws on top of all the sharp materials that might be needed.

Indignat, Arya explained, "Saphira is an extremely intelligent dragon. Do not question her judgement- or it could prove fatal. If you were not dense, simple-minded dim-wits, then you would have realized that Eraogn DOESN"T NEED surgery! Or at least not form YOU! Who would have thought of that?" Fuming, she blatantly ignored the healers protests as she strapped on Saphira's saddle, stored basic medical herbs (even though she knew deep down would never prove useful) in the sack, and easily hauled Eragon on top. With Saphira's help, Arya was able to strap him in safely without fear of him falling off.

After that, Arya packed in three water canteens from willing donators, When she finally mounted Saphira behind Eragon, she had to reluctantly linger when someone called out her name. A young, odd girl advanced slowly, as if ina haze, and stood by Saphira's side, beginning to stroke her. "Take care of them both, okay?" Elva asked plainly. Arya forced a smile, replying, "For your sake, I will." "Whe will he return?" "When the elves make him better." "So he is _sick_, then, right? What's wrong?" Arya shook her head. "I don't know." Sighing, Elva gave Saphira one last stroke, and in turn received a lick on her cheek, turned and sulked away.

Without further interruption, Saphira jolted upward into the night sky, where the wind strengthened and the temperature eerily dropped. Arya gripped the handle tightly, and hovered in Eragon's ear. "Hold on," she whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

Purple Stone: Eragon book 3

Chapter Six: The Shady Company

The air was bright, cool, and crisp. Brittle wind swept across the mouth of the Jiet River periodically, creating a moist, densely cold atmosphere among the camp of the Shades nearby. Five gaudy mats surrounded by a magical blue flame belonged to the Shades, and a separate of the same condition belonged to Murtagh, the changed Dragon Rider. Each and every one of the Shades had deep, crimson hair, somewhat similar to human resemblance.

The "leader" of the other four was one named Famke, a rather tall Sahdewoman with long, straight hair and a fine, elongated face with dark eyes.

The way her face was shaped made her seem as if she was always amused, constantly remaining a partial grin. Nearly six feet tall, Famke was slim and appealing, with a detectable strong-willed personality. She was undeniably more powerful over the others, and perhaps any other Shade in previous existence, even comparing to Galbatorix himself.

Next, there was a Shade named Gormac. A Shade of natural, average height, he had a clean bald head but a rectangular goatee on his jutted chin. He was gruff, disrespectful, bitter, and repulsive. Every word he said was either a hiss or a grunt, or occasionally a roar.

Next came Kritzle, a Shade with a thick, foreign accent and shoulder-length hair. Older than the rest, he was normally recloused and reserved, but when he did speak out his mind it would only lead to an incredibly boring saga of nothing of any real importance. Also, Kritzle had a saudistic longing inside him, making him just as evil as the rest, just more withdrawn.

Then there was Zymphadorus, a witty and comical fellow. His exotic appearance contained deep red hair slicked up in three inch spikes around his head. More openly disturbed in an unnaturally wicked way, Zymphadorus would always test out his abilities by humorously torturing small animals and insects until death.

Last in line of the Shades stood Rauxopian, a stout, dense and scruffy man. His hair naturally formed in ropes, often in near braids of twists and turns, unevenly falling from his shoulders, his midback, or at his ankles. Although he wasn't half as old as Kritzle, Rauxopian's appearance was roughly aged, as he was steadily delcining in strength. Similar to Gormac in gruffness, Rauxopian differed greatly by remaining forever loyal to Famke, their Ebrithril, or "Shade Master."

All five of the Sahdes had similar yet contradicting personalities, all of them seeming vital for Murtagh's acceptancr or his death would become imminent. Powerful though he was, Murtagh had not the slightest chance against any of the Shades if there was an uproar, let alone a group of five. The only one Murtagh paid any attention to was Kritzle, his withdrawn nature ironically inviting. Murtagh went to him in confidence, seeking knowledge and advice. He also felt close to Kritzle in a sense that they both enjoyed being secluded form the others. Murtagh would subconsciously side along with him during disputes, although once Famke had her say others would unquestionably silence for fear of punishment. His dragon, Thorn, also favored Kritzle. Having absolutely nothing of importance commonly said, the three became a likely trio traveling together for over a week.

This proved to be dreadful and frustrating, especially when the time of an attack was near, and oppurtunity was coming to a close as the Vardenneared Surday day by day. This morning too shared the obvious bitter confusement. Famke and the four following Shades had been heatedly disputing whether or not to attack the very next day or the day after that. "If not tomorrow then when, Ebrithil Famke?" Zymphadorus snapped. Fmake hardened her gaze, looking down upon him.

"The very next day afterwards, of course. they will be too jittery tomorrow because of their injured Dragon Rider, Eragon. I, as well as any other proper magician, felt Galbatorix's taunting spell that weakened him. The real damage shall come at a later time, I believe. But since he and the elf left on the dragon, the Varden will be anxiously watching the skie as if to expect their return with a warning. I feel it, I know it, foolish as they are stupid, do not doubt my word. Remember to obey me wholeheartedly . . . .understand Gormac?"

Gormac snorted, digging his heels into the dirt. "Without question, Ebrithril." Famke strengthened her penetrating gaze.

"Are you sure of this, Gormac?" He uncontrollably gave an angry shake, irratable. He jerked his head forward, wrinkling his cheek. The others, especially Murtagh, cringed as they realized what was about to happen. Famke sighed, as if disappointed, and flicked her wrist. Suddenly Gormac stood unnaturally rigid, immobile, and was lifted in the air and slammed on the ground multiple times by magical means. Once the spell had worn off, he scrambled to his feet, panting and massaging his temple. Murtagh and Kritzle snickered, while Zymphadorus grinned, as the rest remained stern composures.

"Change the doubt in your bowels, Gormac, I feel it and it infuriates me. I'm not asking for your trust, just your obedience and loyalty to my order," Famke warned sharply. It took a minute for him to steady himself and regain his composure, buy once he did he issued a silent nod, more respcetful than the last.

"Now then, begin packing up the camp and prepare to leave." Immediately after her dismissal, the Shades, Dragon Rider, and dragon scattered to obey her orders. Packing up sleeping mats, wool blankets, food supply, and water canteensm Murtagh then placed what he could only into Thorn's saddlebags. About seven minutes later, all six had began walking eastward, still avoiding the Northern border of Surda by at least a couple of miles so as not to be detected. After ten minutes or so of walking towards their destination, Murtagh groaned and immediately turned to Thorn, who was strolling by his side.

_"Why aren't we using magic like before to make traveling faster and more convenient?" _Thorn sniffed proudly.

_"You are ignorant. Did you not listen to Famke's order? We are not to attack the Varden until two days from now."_

_"What does that have to do with traveling like muddled humans?"_

Thorn huffed heavily. _"We are only a few minutes away of the island forest of lake Tudosten, where the Varden will be entering Surda! They come to their country there because it is unexpected not to enter at the first entrance. They think they're clever. But once we reach that lake, we shall hide out for a day and morning before encountering the Varden, in which we shall surprise them. After all, an ambush isn't an ambush if it's foreseen! Am I correct?"_

Murtagh grunted in reply, his face crossed and puzzled. Just then Gormac swiveled around and bitterly inquired, "What's wrong with you?" Startled, Murtagh recoiled and quickly shook his head. "Nothing . . . nothing's the matter," he studdered.

Gormac scowled as he looked him up and down while they were walking, retorting, "Well, why don't you shut your damn mouth and walk away, alright half-ling?" Zymphadorus cackled out loud, tottering over as he walked along the rest of the company.

"I'm twenty-four years old, not a half-ling, so who the hell are you talking to?" Immediately he regretted he retailation as Gormac bit his lip and raised his hand. Half a second later he thrust out his arm and grabbed Murtagh by the throat. For a moment the rest of the group kept walking before they recognized the disturbance. Gormac was lifting Murtagh clean off his feet and grinning maliciously as Thorn dug his claws threateningly in the dirt. Giant puffs of smoke streamed out abundantly. Sputtering and coughing wildly, Murtagh was saved as Kritzle muttered an incantation under his breath. Suddenly Gormac dropped Murtagh, and wretched a couple of dry heaves before the spell ceased.

Kritzle then advanced towards him ominously, turning at the last second to face Murtagh. "Do not question his judgement-for you _are _a half-ling. Keep your blabbering mouth shut," he stated thickly.

"But I didn't do anything in the first place!" Murtagh recolied indignantly. Kritzle raised a thick eyebrow. while Murtagh scowled. The others glanced back swiftly, then determined the turmoil had passed and continued walking. After a few strained hours of laborous, common troubles of basic traveling, the group had reached the western edge of Lake Tudosten, where an unusual cluster of trees covered about two miles. This was the "island of trees" that would not only shelter them for two days but hide them and their scent form then carrying winds and mor eimportantly, the Varden.

Without uttering any form of communication, they didn't wadte time in setting up the camp to wait-for that was all that they could do. Sitting in his sleeping mat a few hours before evening, Murtagh drifted off to sleep to tackle his boredom, as the stakeout had begun.


	7. Chapter 7

Purple Stone

Chapter Seven: Fair and Fatal Visions

Soaring high into the skies were Arya, Eragon, and Saphira. They hovered over the western edge of the Hadarac Desert, east of the Romr River. Still barely breathing and on the edge of life and death remained Eragon, slumped forward in the front of the saddle as Arya clung to him and the handle from behind. Both she and Saphira were exhausted , until they at last decided to land as close to the river as possible when streams of darkness protruded the sky.

_"This birngs bad memories,_" thought Saphira to Arya. Suddenly, as soon as they had just reached level ground, a blinding white flash of light popped and struck Arya and Saphira as a memory. The younger dragon Saphira was battering her weak wings against the wind, carrying Eragon, Arya, and Murtagh. As in the past, it was Eragon who clung to the unconscious Arya and Murtagh sat proudly in the front. Just as suddenly as Saphira's memory occured, it evaded, leaving them in brutal reality.

Amused, Arya wordlessly dismounted and brought an unconscious Eragon down with her. She laid him roughly on the ground, and uttered, "Brisingr," after placing a circle of stones to surround the magical fire. Unloading her pack, Arya first laid down a leaf-stitched bedmat for Eragon and tended to him as best as she could. Kneeling, she withdrew her water canteen and carefully tipped it into his lips. Saphira curled in a near ball closeby, watching attentively.

_"This is rather peculiar. Not too long ago he was attempting to help you survive, as you are to him right now." _Arya acknowledged the statement quietly, as she unloaded her own bedmat and laid it a few feet from his. Both her's and Eragon's bedmats were cleverly built by the Elves, with bright greeen leaves sewed tightly together. Their leaves resembled the jeweled pendant that held her cloak together when worn.

All was silent except for the cackling of the fire and Eragon's struggled breathing for the longest time, as Arya lay on her back, gazing at the billions of teeming stars blinking back at her. The warm current of the Ramr River kept the temperature mild and comfortable, for the threesome ewre were far too away to be included technically in the harsh weather of the Hadarac Desert.

After a while, Arya finally turned to saphira and told her what had been lingering apprehensively in the back of her mind. _"Would you know if Eragon was just about to die...like a warning of some sort?" _

Previously languid, Saphira tensed up and raised her head, replying, _"Just as much of a warning that I would feel if I were about to die. Our minds are bonded at an unbreakable force, you know that."_

_"Well if you can determine whether or not he might die can yuo determine his status?"_

There was a long, uncomfortable pause.

_"He isn't well, arya-I-he's . . ._" Saphira looked solemnly over at his direction, whining lowly. She rested her head against his side sadly, blinking her heavy eyelids several times. Arya sighed, then rolled over on her side, facing away form the pitiful sight. She watched the fire's flames grow, and then falter, a continuous repetition, licking ominously against the surrounding stones. Arya closed her worn eyes, slowly exhaling.

Immediately afterwards a flash of light bombardedagainst her once again, exceot undeniably stronger and more forceful than Saphira's memory. This, however, was no memory of the nearby dragon. Frozen stiff, Arya saw a blurry image of some Shadewoman kneeling voer a writhing Eragon. Her perspective came in ripples, slurring and running together. Arya managed to hear the Shadewoman yell, then she watched, horrified, as Eragon twisted and turned and hit his limbs against the blood soaked gorund uncontrollably, scremaing out in utter agony.

The Shadewoman's face grimaced, then she bowed before him even closer, watching him suffer.

Another flash of light-sickening pain in her eyes. Arya leapt up, panting, unsheathing her sword and looking about wildly. It took her a long, hard minute to realize nothing had happened, and that Eragon remained in his weary state and Saphira was eying her suspiciously. _"What's wrong-what the bloody hell are you doing?" _She asked quickly, with a taste of accusation. Arya gritted her teeth, slamming her sword back in place.

_"What was that memory you just showed me?" _Arya fumed, although she knew it had not come from the dragon. Saphira blinked back blankly.

_"What are you raving about? The only memory I showed you was us crossing the Ramr River-but I showed it to you several hours ago. I'm sorry if it offneded you."_ Saphira then ruffled herself impatiently, casting the elf cautious gazes. Arya shook her head, plopping back down on her mat, head in her hands.

_"No. I mean I just now saw something." _

Saphira grunted anxiously, sniffing the air as if to detect enemies. Arya huffed stressfully, pondering what had just occured. She couldn't decide whether her recent vision was a nightmare, a hallucination, or worst - a premonition. Since nothing of the sort had ever happened before, Arya wondered why it would happened now of all times. She could abrely remember what the Shadewoman looked like, or if it were even a Sahdewoman at all. The more she tried to remember, the faster the details slipped away, just like strugglingto ohld on to the trickling water through cupped hands.

Between dispair and frustration, Arya massaged her temples roughly. _"It is only a few more hours until daylight - you really should get some rest," _Saphira suggested. Arya nodded, and laid down stiffly on her back, holding her eyes wide open fearfully.

A/N: I know this ne was rather short, but it's worth it for the next chapter, which is rather long. Please review to say what you think.


	8. Chapter 8

Purple Stone

Chapter Eight: Ambush

On the morning of the second day, the five Shades and Murtagh and his dragon awoke eagerly, preparing to take their final positions.  
They doused the fire, packed up their belongings, and hid anything that might show their existence. With everything, including footprints, had been cleared, Famke ordered, "Murtagh - mount your dragon and await the signal in the lake, make sure to sink as low as you can so that you can't be seen, sensed, or smelled. Gormac and Kritzle, hide in the lake on either sid eof it, but as far way as you can while still being inside the lake. Zymphadorus and Rauxopian, hide in the top of the trees with me. the Varden and Lady Nasuada should be within sight in an hour, two at the most. Move quickly."

Half the group dispersed, obeying her every command. Murtagh swiftly hopped on to Thorn, and they, as well as Gormac and Kritzle, entered the lake's depth with reluctance.

It was black and murky, unnaturally still. Once they touched Lake Tudosten, they realized with bitterness that it's texture was much like tar - sticky and hot. The lake did not seem to be made with water at all, but just a giant hole dug for someone for whatever reason and filled with dreadful tar. It was unmistakably sickening and disgusting, distracting them from their task.

_"This is burning my thick scales . . .try not to touch the black water," _Thorn complained miserably. Murtagh wrinkled his nose, lifting his legs up and over Thorn's rear, as he grasped his massive neck. Glancing over, he noticed that Gormac and Kritzle's bare skin hadn't in the slightest been affected as they wordlessly edged to their position .

Meanwhile, Famke, Zymphadorus, and Rauxopian had no trouble using magic to perch at the very tip tops of the branches, still covered by the great big bush of leaves about them. Only a very faint, whisper of a wind carried their scent from about a half mile away.

No other noise besides the soft rustle of the leaves disturbed the atmosphere. All six of the Imperial group waited eagerly but gingerly.

Twenty more minutes slipped by.

The nerves in Murtagh's legs twitched uncomfortably, as his circulation was slowly cut off as he sat on them. The murmur of chatter of noises from the Varden grew quickly. They were suddenly in sight, crossing past Lake Tudosten without worry.

The travelers all seemed worn and weary, a fantastic omen for the Shades. After two or three tense minutes of waiting, Famke surprisingly shot out a red bolt of lightening at the sky for a signal. She, Zymphadorus, Rauxopian, Murtagh and Thorn, Gormac, and Kritzl rushed out of their hiding places with wicked glee. The Varden's group had at least two thousand soldiers in all, not to mention all of the officials.

At first only bystanders looked about suspiciously before someone with some sense bellowed, "Ambush! AMBUSH! Prepare for battle! SHADES!"

A massive uproar of utter turmoil occured, with the officials barking orders, soldiers fleeing and soldiers readying for battle, healers and the few children there screamed and ran as fast as their bodies would allow. Murtagh's dragon scorched more than half of the Varden at the exact time that the Shades were cursing that same half. Less than a thousand people left, many who had foolishly remained intending to fight had relinquished the idea and hauled off the other direction.

"RUN FOOLS, IT'S NOT WORTH IT!" Nasuada roared, pushing off her guards. Elva soon reached her side and fled beside her, both too shocked to have time to think about despair. They ran amongst the numerous others in the direction of Surda., although no real hope remained. Everyone was dying so fast and so furiously that there was no time for blood to spill where the bodies had burned from Thorn's smoldering flames.

The scene was beyond surrealism, beyond reality, although it was actually occuring. Hundreds were dying, ceasing to exist another second. No good samaritans bothered to grab a hand of the injured and assist, because it was, in short, impossible. They were all dying so incredibly fast that it was almost as if the Shades and the Rider were toying with them.

The pathetic attempt of escape that many were facing suddenly vanished as the Shades, Rider, or all of them managed to freeze the survivors stock still with magic. None could move, in the slightest, blink, speak, and could barely manage to breathe. Nasuada and Elva were halfway held in midair as one of their legs were off to the side because they had been running. She could see from her frozen gaze that the Shades and Rider, who had been held high in the air, lowered to the ground and confidently prowled the ruined grounds and examined the dead and the survivors.

"You could have done better," growled Famke, facing both Gormac and Rauxopian. They both returned stout, apolegetic composures. "I can't waste my time on those who have nothing to offer but what I can easily do myself," she hissed icily. Without hesitation, she flicked her finger and the two Shades crumpled in a bloody mass upon the already littered ground. Murtagh clutched Thorn harder impulsively, grimacing.

Famke then headed in front of all the survivors, so that all could see her. She straightened, slightly smiling, and said, "Good morning. If you are alive and listening before me now, count your blessings but do not become overjoiced. Both men and women will be slaves, Imperial soldeirs, or killed. Any - or I should say all - of the children can walk freely. But know this - if you walk to Surda - you will be safe only for a little while. If you come with us, you will be safe and taken care of, and placed into abled Imperial homes. Parents who are worried sick right now shouldn't despair - for none of the children were harmed - but have already fled or are frozen somewhere near you and you can't see them."

Breaking off, Famke then released her spell over the children only. There were only eight, and each one ran to their frozen mothers or fathers and clung to them. With a sigh, Famke then released the people who had been favored by the children, relatives or not. Elva, who hadn't fled or become frightened , just calmly remained by Nasuada's side, although the queen remained frozen as the children and the lucky others fled towards Surda. Noticing this, Famke approached Elva kindly.

"If you wish to leave, pick another to flee with or go by yourself - because this woman is very important to King Galbatorix because she's an important leader against him." Elva shook her head firmly.

"Her fate is mine - for she is my best friend and only family. I am an orphan." Famke raised her eyebrows, nodding.

"Very well." She then unfroze the once stiff survivors, and with a flick of her hand, bound them all in chains around their wrists and ankles, all except Elva and Nasuada. She gestured towards them, "You two shall walk with me." As Zymphadorus, Kritzl, and Murtagh wordlessly rounded up the chained prisoners like a herd of animals, Famke walked over to a rather large tree to take both the frantic Nasuada and peculiarly calm Elva.

"The council of Elders - what of them?" asked Nasuada, concerned, but her defiant pride and boldness forever remaining, for her heart was proud and strong, unmeasurably brave. Elva slipped her dainty hand into Nasuada's, eying Famke with sudden distaste.

"They weren't important before, and certainly aren't now," Famke answered tonelessly.

For a second, it seemed as if Nasuada would cry, but she held herself together and snapped, "Let Elva leave and kill me now, because I will never give you or your foul king any information or assistance of any kind!"

Famke stiffened abruptly, retorting, " Do you think I like him any better? Or what about the others with me - do you think they absolutely adore Galbatorix? Affection and respect are two separate terms, queen, and it would be wise to remember that. Do not disrespect my king or I will be dishonorable not to punish you. As for the child - she can leave whenever she wishes. Or she can come along - I promise her presence won't be neglected. If she comes she will be well cared for. Any more concerns?" Nasuada glanced down at Elva sadly and back at the Shadewoman.

She thought of what might have happened to Angela, the witch, but decided it better to find out herself, for informing Famke what she might not yet be aware of. She slowly shook her head. "All right, then. We will immediately head to Gil'ead. And warning, Lady Nasuada, I have not chained you for the child's sake - do not make me regret my decision. You shall stay close to me at all times, and do not attempt to flee after nightfall, because I, along with the other Shades ,can sense treachery. Follow me."

Nasuada snorted, tighening her grip on Elva's hand as Famke rose her arm high in the air, gesturing to the others to guide the two hundred survivors behind her.

A/N: Please, please, please review!

Just fifteen seconds of your time to offer suggestions of improvement and/or comments on the plot and where it's going.

Once again . . .

Please, please, please review!


	9. Chapter 9

_Purple Stone_

Chapter Nine: Cries of the Dead and Dying

The large cluster of captives walked in front of Murtagh and Thorn, Kritzl, and Zymphadorus, who were in the rear. Leading the group northward were Famke, Nasuada, and Elva. It was such a silent, solemn, and dreadful sight, with the only sound coming from the pitter patter of numerous feet. Once again, Murtagh could not understand why they weren't using magic to travel at a much faster rate as they had done when in search of the Varden.

After acknolwedging Murtagh's concern, Thorn responded, _"Don't you use your thick head every once in a while? The survivors who escaped are probably running their mouths off to report the surprise attack. Many of Surda's magicians are trying as hard as they can to detect means of magic to discover our location. If they sense anything, many courageous soldiuers will come dashing to us, preparing to die to save those being killed - because that's the first thing that comes to mind when magic is used. We don't want them to know where we're going because a battle will be forged within days in attempt to rescue their captives. For all they know, we could be dragging them to northenmost Alagaesia."_

Murtagh huffed heavily, irratated at the complications and the fact that he wasn't totally aware of the plans that they faced. He constantly felt underestimated and unimportant when around the Empire. What angered him the most, though, was the fact that he knew the Varden and all other  
Imperial rebels loved and praised Eragon and his dragon gloriously. What he would give to feel needed and of importance to the Empire instead of just a symbol they half-heartedly recognized.

Murtagh gritted his teeth at the thought, hot anger pounding through his veins. Seething, he barked at a nearby soldier for not moving hastily enough.

Up at the front of the line, Nasuada anxiously took note of all her surroundings that they slowly passed, as if to report it to another for aid. Near her side Elva hummed tunelessly, oblivious to the dangers around her. To the direct right of her lead Famke, her eyes so intently gazing in front of her that instead of the flat, bare plains in view she must have been thinking of somehting else.

The few trees that past became rarer until there were none at all, only yellow-green grass and a single, small freshwater pond that they past as i9f it weren't there. The whole lot of them trudged onward for hours, ruthlessly contiuing although the injured and weart soldiers stumbled at every other step. It took a great deal of dicipline for Famke not to use magic to deliver them to Gil'ead within minutes.

As the sun finally began to set, beautiful but bare streams of sunlight reflected off the plains, making the walk slightly less unpleasant.

Another tireosme hour later, all means of lighting evaded, leaving the bunch in plane darkness, not that there was anything worth viewing with light.

Murtagh soon yelled out at several more soldiers for either slowing their pace or faltering whattsoever. One bold soldier urged up the courage to plead Famke for rest, although, she mercilessly ignored him, her transfixed eyes still glaring blankly. However, Kritzl and Zymphadorus showed no signs of irratation or weariness. Soon Elva was panting and willed herself not to give up, but to keep stepping forwards, although her legs ached and burned, shootingg sears of pain through her body.

Noticing this, Nasuada picked Elva up and held her against her, with the young girl's head resting against her shoulder. Even though Nasuada too felt exhausted and ravenously hungry, she somehow managed to keep moving while carrying Elva. For a whole, dragging hour the captives and Sahde group edged onward, until at last Famke raised her arm high into the air, gesturing to a stop.

"Halt!" Kritzl bellowed out to all.

Famke spun around, addressing them, "You have until dawn to rest and heal your wounded. By morning, we shall be able to use magic and reach Gil'ead - for we are too far for your allies to track us now. Use your time wisely, because tomorrow you will be dead or under the King's command." Withought hesitation, the captives all huddled together in one tight-knit circle, including Nasuada and Elva.

Famke, Kritzl, Zymphadorus, and Murtagh and Thorn settled around them, watching the soldiers between amusement and revulsion. No pleasures whatsoever were granted to the Varden - no mats, blankets, food or water, or medical aid was given, The only fires lit were for the Shades. The prisoners had to lay down on the bare, tall grasses all the while remaining in confining chains.

It took a long time before silence erupted, and at least half of them were able to drift into an uncomfortable sleep.

Elva jolted awake, abruptly and fearfully. Although she could barely see, she had soon realized that many of the soldiers were bustling around and making awful noises. Terrified, she sprang up form the scratchy bed of grases, blinking and rubbing her eyes repeatedly,.

Suddenly, many moans and screams ejected all at once, with a sickening squeals and shrillness.

It was eerie, ghostly, and instantly depressing. There was no beginning and no end of the cries of the dead and dying as she lay there that night, silently weeping. Nasuada, nearby, clutched her protectively, with not one ounce of sleep gained whatsoever. She had been aware of the mourning souls.

When dawn arrived a few hours later, Nasuada instinctively ripped out a piece of her dress from the bottom and tied it gently around Elva's eyes as if a blindfold. She bent over and picked up the once sleeping child and examined, with horror, the dozens of dead bodies only inches away from where they were laying.

The deceased soldiers' eyes were wide open, as well as their rotted mouths with dry tongues rolling out. Dried, sticky blood cluttered around the corpses as if a banner, and the place of the wound was unknown for many. Navigating very cautiously around the dead, Nasuada headed towards Famke, Kritzl, Zymphadorus, and Murtagh and Thorn expectantly, where they had been standing side by side, waiting.

Close to them were thirty soldiers still in chains, gauntly ashen and frail.

"Explain this!" Nasuada screamed blatantly.

Famke ignored her, watching a group of vultures flock towards the mass of the dead. Elva stirred at the noise, immediately pulling at the blindfold. Nasuada stopped her, murmuring, "This is not meant for children's eyes."

Elva quickened her breathing, asking, "Is everything all right? What's happened?"

Nasuada shook her off, biting back tears, and demanded, "Shadewoman - Famke - answer me! Why have you done this?"

At this, Kritzl and Zymphadorus stirred angrily; Murtagh looked off in the distance hungrily as Thorn grutned.

After a moment, Famke turned and glared at Nasuada, dully responding, "The tried to free themselves of the chains. I warned them." She then clicked her tongue impatientlyreturning her eyes to the scavengers prying ruined flesh off the morbid skeletons.

Turning to see what the Shadewoman was watching so interestedly, Nasuada hastily set Elva down and began to vomit, uncontrollably.

Once again, Elva made to loosen the blindfold, but this time was stopped by Famke herself.

"There is nothing to see here, child. Mind your queen."

The Shade then slung her long, deep red hair over her shoulder and added, "Control yourself, hinus. We must now prepare to be judged before the Great Galbatorix."

**_A/N: Please review!!!!!!!! Please review!!!!!!! Please review!!!!!!! I promise to return the favor if you do!!!_**

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A/N Continued: (I check my stats every so often, and I keep seeing more and more people clicking on the chapter, but no reviews. If you can't type a few sentences for me, then how can I type a few hundred for you?)


	10. Chapter 10

_Puple Stone _

Chapter Ten: Return to Ellesmera

Arya's Elven kin greeted her, Eragon, and Saphira anxiously, with guards, neighbors, and others flocking around them in a cluster. Saphira jostled against many, while several people firing out hundreds of questions. Arya was still too consumed in a dreary daze that seemed to have distorted her. The mere thought of others standing in her way and asking ludicrous things made her very irrational. Ignoring them, she continued onwards roughly, not borthering to wait for others to have the sense to move out of her way.

Once they had finally managed to enter the heart of the city, Arya could clearly see Queen Islanzadi dashing out of her beautiful house, hastily maneuvering to the three. She panted, "Is he dead? Has our Shadeslayer fallen - has he doomed us all?" Saphira impulsively stopped, a thick silence degrading them all. Arya at first couldn't manage to face her Queen, so she simply took on a deaf ear, all the while sitting on Saphira's great blue back and intently studying Eragon's weak form.

Observers of all sorts seemed to finally have had their tongues tied, instead glaring cautiously. Still distraught, Queen Islanzadi bitterly stammered, "Well why did you bring him here, then? To show us all he failed! To serve a grand Elven funeral for him! Most outrageous . . . I will absolutely refuse a funeral for him . . . take him to his own kin! How dare you use such foolish insolence such as to wave around his dead form to mock - "

"Think of what you're saying!" Arya interrupted suddenly, extremely annoyed. Queen Islanzadi looked most startled to realize what her own daughter had done. She opened her mouth, goggling, and seemed to out of sorts to reply.

Arya angrily continued, "If he was dead, then this dragon would be crumpled on the floor - not carrying us everywhere! He's ill!

Someone's cursed him!" There was an immediate uproar of gasps and turmoil.

"By whom?" Islanzadi inquired quickly.

"Who do you think?" Arya scowled, fuming.

Again, an immediate uproar of mumblings emitted, especially containing things such as, "King," and , "Galbatorix."

Controlling herself with great difficulty, Islanzadi fidgeted nervously, unaware of what to do with herself. Arya, however, had no trouble of knowing what to do, and irratably stated, "We've been traveling for three days - the dragon needs nourishment, as well as I and espeically Eragon."

IAt this, Queen Islanzadi hastily issued out orders to and fro, sending onlookers off to the side and guards back at their posts. She then called for healing sages that came bustling to Saphira's side, reaching for Eragon's unconsious body.

Immediately Arya withdrew her sword, holding it out at the two sages' throats.

"I wish him to be under the care of Oromis, Togira Ikonoka," she demanded, grabbing him with her free arm.

Saphira backed up slowly, snorting. Reluctantly, Islanzadi nodded, beckoning the offended Sages to her side. "He is in the dragon hold with Glaedr, if not there then in the marked forest," she said with clear desperation. Arya nodded in reply, urging Saphira onward.

Suddenly Islanzadi added, "It is obvious that the boy is in poor condition - please let me and a few of my trusted join you?"

Once more, Saphira stopped hesitantly.

"In due time, possibly, but for now Oromis would know of how to revive him, and I wish Eragon to be witheld in an enclosed environment."

Many of those who had bene intently watching the scene were surprised at the authority that Arya had over her very own mother when discussing Eragon's fate, some actually gasping as if to expect the Queen to protest. Without further interruptions, Saphira navigated through the tight village and towards the clearing in the distance, leaving behind numerous shocked, terrified, and puzzled onlookers.

* * *

"This is an Ancient Curse that is extremely difficult to overcome," Oromis responded quietly, after receiving a deatiled account of Eragon's collapse. He lay on a very scrupulously clean bed in Oromis's tidy room. It was a thin, but full, lofty mattress on a neat woven slate, inside a large, wooden, circular room. Scrolls, books, and quills laid orderly on a desk in the corner of the room. The bedroom was connected to the dragon hold by a great, tall archway. 

Oromis then pulled the sheets back partly, carefully removing Eragon's shirt, laying it neatly to the side. Arya fidgeted impatiently or anxiously, as if out of place as she watched on the other side of the bed witha slight feleing of hopelessness; Saphira sat on her hindquartes in Glaedr's dragon hold, watching intently through the large archway.

It was evident that Eragon was toned and muscular, although slim, with his built chest and perfectly lined abdomen, but all the while even more obvious that there was a growing weakness about him. Running his light finger form Eragon's chest to the top of his lower abdomen, Oromis sighed, nodding knowledgeably.

"What is it?" Arya interrogated nervously.

Saphira instnatly perked up and sniffed, determined to make herself noticed in the situation.

"I was right - there is something wrong with the heart - for it is unnaturally slow. It is not of a natural illness, however, because it is evident that Eragon is in perfectly good shape."

"Just fix it - and fast . . for I have a horrible feeling something awful is about to happened to the Varden. I can't tell if a disaster has happened or not."

Oromis stiffened. "Im surprised you don't know already. Most of the other elves knew. I fear you have been spending to much time around humans."

Arya did not appreciate the joke.

"Knew what?" she snapped.

"Those Shades and that Rider already ambushed them - most are dead already. But somehow NAsuada and the young child, Elva, still lives."

Arya scowled, biting back her tongue.

"If everyone knows this, then how come nothing has been done? Is everyone going to sit back comfortably and enjoy small talk about people being killed! Why? Why has this atrocious act happened?"

"Ask your mother, spawner of all atrocious actsthe very _dear_ Queen Islanzadi," Oromis retorted icily.

He then slipped out a carefully concealed dagger, with beautiful Elven writing written across it, and held it over Eragon's heart. Arya stopped him, thrusting out her hand.

"You attempt to heal a curse through a dagger?" she asked incredulously.

Oromis huffed.

"The self-induced posion hsa to be drained, I know what I am doing, so please quiet yourself. If you were capable of having the basic knowledge on how to heal him, then you wouldn't be here right now, would you?"

Oromis's words were harsh and cold, but even more ruthless in a monotone voice.

"Self-induced?" Arya snapped bitterly, stiffening.

Oromis smiled, mockingly nodding.

"You knew all along what had happened, Arya Svit-Kona, you just didn't want to accept the truth. Why else would all of the symptoms match up so perfectly?"

She exhaled slowly and deeply, finally replying, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Oromis's smirk evaded instantaneously, calmly adding, "Very well."

Although the tension was great and thickened by the respectful yet bitter conversation, Arya and Oromis couldn't afford to be further distracted from Eragon's fate. Gently but firmly placing the dagger under Eragon's left breast-bone, Oromis skillfully slit through the muscle and skin tissue as far down as two inches before lifting it up and out with ease.

Saphira thrust her head out of the archway and uttered a low, threatening growl, eyes narrowing and teeth baring. Arya watched, unnerved, and every few seconds exchanged glances with Saphira.

Oromis then pulled out the slit by grabbing the skin tissue, and gingerly pushed forth his forefinger. Eragon's body twitched unnaturally, making Saphira jump in place as well also. Wordlessly Arya walked around to the water basin and splashed her face a couple of times, willing herself not to gag as Oromis felt around Eragon's revealing heart.

"I do not have the strength to do this alone, Arya, so repeat aftet me, the incantation.

She shook her head firmly.

"I know it."

Ignoring Oromis's triumphant, goading face, she peered down at ERagon's wound, and muttered a long a complete incantation of undoing the damage.

When she had finished, she breathlessly muttered, "Remove the hex from me against him."

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A/N: So what do you think?

I'm thinking, since there are a major lack of reviews, I'm going to stop posting it because it's an utter waste of time.

So, if anybody wants me to update, REVIEW.

If not, enjoy this last, cliffhanger-chapter for Purple Stone.


	11. Chapter 11

_Puple Stone _

Chapter Eleven: Exodus and Treason

"Now then," Arya began heavily, pretending as if she had not seen Eragon intake a great breath and stir, "I wish to attend an explanatory meeting with the Queen and her haughty advisors."

Oromis inclined his head in response, muttering, "Waise heil," over the slits that he had dug into Eragon's chest.

"He should awaken in a couple of days," he added sincerely, grabbing a wet cloth from the water basin and squeezing droplets inot Eragon's mouth.

Saphira, form behind, snorted gravely, clinking her talons as she appraoched the archway. Without another word, Arya marched proudly out of Oromis's hut, swiftly descending down the ladder of the Great Oak Tree.

* * *

Bursting into the doors of the rather un-royal home of Islanzandi several minutes later, Arya loudly exclaimed, "I demand a counsel, Queen." 

Across the room, sitting ata polished desk, Islanzadi laid down her spectacles, tossed aside her feathery quill, and shoved the pile of parchments so that she had free space to rest her hands, richly laiden with numerous bejewled rings.

An armed guard stood on either side of her, a safety precation only deemed necessary when the sudden attack form an enemy seemed ominously near. The rest of the house was empty and desolate, but after Arya's arrival, the two guards had roughly hastened to the Queen's side, even though she was her very own daughter.

"Counsel?" Islanzadi stammered anxiously, elbowing the guards back.

"But what of Eragon's health? Is that why you request a secret meeting with me?"

"He's _perfectly_ fine, mother, but the Varden is obviously not! We haven't time to dawdle - I would have certainly confronted you on the matter had I been aware earlier."

Islanzadi nodded feverishly, climbing out of her desk chair and briskly advancing towards Arya, who was but a few feet form the door.

"Minsk - Pip - stay here, more guards are outside, thank you," the Queen added pompously to the distressed guards, exiting behind her daughter.

The two of them quickly walked to the neighboring, much larger building, the Royal Palace. Advisors, messengers, highly qualified guards, and magicians waddled out of the way as the two women stormed in.

"Counsel, everyone - my advisors are to come - guards are to be placed _outside_ the doors, we're going to my study," Islanzadi demanded authoritively.

Marching down the magnificent hallways, Arya, Islanzadi, and three advisors soon threw open the office doors, shut and locked them, and plopped into an oval shaped table filled with many papers and encyclopedias.

Horatio, Zyrtec, and Tonks, the advisors, sat side by side as Arya and Islanzadi sat opposite form one another.

"We have a short window, dear, the elders will be in an uproar if they knew we were excluding them on this very counsel," groaned the Queen tersely, folding her hands.

Arya nearly grimaced, but composed herself, and bitterly answered, "Tell me about the Varden - what happened to them and when?"

The three advisors exchanged startled glances, clearly perturbed. Islanzadi stiffened.

"Oromis confided with you on what had happened, obviously, or else you wouldn't have thought to have asked me. Am I correct?"

Arya scowled, retorting, "Tell me _yourself _what has happened. Also, tell me why I wasn't _aware_ of such acts."

The advisors scoffed or giggled mockingly, while Islanzadi tersely answered, "Do not be angry, _Princess_, for the _Queen_ is the highest authority over all Ellesmera and Elven kind under its trees, and it is _I_ who should be aware of everything..."

Arya's hand uncontrollably jolted at such words, and could barely control an outburst while the Queen continued,

"Everyone has been in the dark. But to enlighten you . . . Five Shades and a Rider and Dragon attacked them; few remain alive."

"Any new news, Queen?" Arya snapped bitterly.

As if no such interruption had occured, the Queen haughtily added, "They are escorting the survivors to Galbatorix - what his immediate plans for them I do not know. But I am sure of this - many will die or become enslaved."

Arya snorted, as if further surprised, and sarcastically inquired, "What is Ellesmera's response attack and when?"

There was a pause, tense emotions flooding through the room.

"We have none," Horatio, the lead advisor, heatedly replied.

"I did not ask _you_, pest," Arya boldly protested.

Horatio grinned, teeth baring, and hissed, "Do you really think I am a pest? Or do you loathe me so because I am thousand times more trusted by the Queen than her very own _daughter_? Or because - "

He broke off as Islanzadi swiftly raised her hand to silence them all before blood was shed from the Princess's sword.

"We have our own problems to take care of," Islanzadi said boredly, sliding papers towards Arya, whom scowled.

"Like what - how much more money do you wish to possess?"

"No! Who don't you _read_ those papers!"

Arya slammed her hand on the table, pulling the scrolls near her rather roughly.

"Well!" Arya demanded.

"Records of security measures od the Empire," Tonks answered severely.

"And!"

"_And_ it shows thousands of his army hastily marching to an exact destination!" The Queen snapped.

"What destination?"

Again, nobody replied but remained grave, irratable faces.

"About a week or so I received a message from one of my courriers. Apparently, Galbatorix sent thirty thousand soldiers out of his much larger army to destroy Ellesmera and take back prisoners," Is;anzadi said solemnly, scooting out from her chair.

The advisors followed suit, standing from their chairs.

"But why?" Arya demanded, tenaciously remaining in her seat.

"We are a threat," Zyrtec replied, all four of them heading towards the door.

"Of course we're a threat!" Arya thundered, leaping from her seat and knocking it to the ground.

Queen Islanzadi began to protest, but Arya broke her off, bellowing, "You _swore_ alliance to the Varden decades ago! Why should that be thrown in the trash at the FIRST SIGN of danger to the Elves? Are we not the confident race that so commonly boasts on our abilities? I have been ashamed to be an elf over the past decade or so of you ignoring the Varden's pleas! These people have been through troubles left and right but never faltered allegiance with the Elves because of it!"

"Because WE don't DEMAND ASSISTANCE - WE don't NEED it!"

"THAT'S NOT MY POINT, QUEEN!"

Arya was near shaking, boiling with pent up rage and fury. Islanzadi stood disbelieving, gaping at her daughter as if she had never seen her before.

Slowly approaching her, the Queen quietly muttered, "How _dare you_ mock my judgement, insolent daughter of mine. Tell me what makes you think you can put your two cents in and knock aside mine just because you are heir to the throne?"

Arya's mouth dropped, infuriated at the words.

"I am not telling you as a princess but as a peson - don't throw away loyalty at the first sign of trouble to Ellesmera. For years you've hid abled soldiers and magicians in the forrest and turned a deaf ear towards cried for help. When you hold yourself over the people and it's allies, that's when your role status is meaningless, _Queen_."

Arya paused, mainly to controll herself and steady her breathing.

As if she had heard nothing, Islanzadi made to the door, following behind her advisors.

Arya further added, " And don't worry, fool, for I am _no daughter_ of yours. My heir comes from my father, who wouldn't have let such atrocious acts happen."

Islanzadi walked through the door, Arya following behind, gripping the handle of her sword subconsciously.

* * *

(_break in case readers are weary of reading)_

* * *

When they were side by side, Islanzadi tonelessly said, "We are leaving the city, all of us - every single one. Except for Oromis, who refuses to leave and with Glaedr defending him no one dare coerce him into fleeing. Besides, the mere fact of his dragon's existence will be unfortunate for Galbatorix to discover." 

"You're _fleeing the city?"_ Arya asked incredulously.

"The soldiers will come, _here, this destination_. They will burn this place, they will kill the Elves and enslave few."

"Then we stay and fight, surely you considered that basic iea before considering sending a mass exodus of your people elsewhere," Arya retorted indignatly.

"Did I mention that Galbatorix has sent thirty thousand soldiers this way - while our entire populattion is barely four thousand?" Islanzadi snapped mockingly.

"We're Elves - magicians - very powerful people. Half the Empire's troops are unwilling to fight."

"The Empire has a many good magicians here and there. Most importantly, there are still Shades roaming around freely around Alagaesia."

In response Zyrtec hastily muttered something in Islanzadi's ear, who then corrected herself, "Oh no - nevermind - I forgot about three shades escorting the Varden to Gil'ead. Dear me . . . my memory's failing me."

"You know of the Varden's imprisonment and still not being of aid is what began this debated counsel in the first place, Hinus ,and I thought there were _five_ shades?"

"The leader killed two of them."

"I guess your memory failed on that too, eh?"

And with that, Islanzadi finally exited the Royal Palace, with the haughty adviors admiringly following suit.

Fuming, Arya raced after them, charging out of the Royal Palace as she noticed the Queen whispr something to a nearby guard. Immediately he blew his horn, as the Queen walked to the center of the neighborhood-like circle of tree houses, and authoritively cleared her throat.

Dozens of people quickly came darting out to their balconies or windows. After a bustling moment of many hastening to the scene, Islanzadi began a brief, salt-and-pepper type of speech of leaving Ellesmera, only informing the ELves of what they could have guessed or already knew. She purposely left out the fact that when they left the city, they were most likely never to return.

Most shocking of her speech, was that after they were leaving Ellesmera, they would find settlement in Gil'ead, in which she herself, personally, the Queen would hand over money to Galbatorix for land.

This was not the right thing to say.

An uproar engaged elves into roaring out nasty responses, many tossing various objects towards the Queen.

Adding all of those protestors together, they still didn't amount to half as much as the blood-throttling, infuriating glare that the Queen received from Arya.

Even the guards lost their composure before remembering themselves, and although they knew it useless, they shouted at the angry crowd to settle down.

Raising her right hand in the air to silence them, Islanzadi responded, "Where will we go if not the Imperial Lands? The caves of Farthen-Dur in the Beors with the Varden's _failed_ stronghold? The rebellious land of Surda, where LAdy Nasuada moved half of her people there for war only to kill them and capture them for the Shades and Dragon Rider? Whether you understand, agree, or believe - the Varden is weak. The mere human race is weak! Who says we have only one cause or one ally to side with? Why not the EMpire - it has much more land and much more safety! Besides, that still doesn't necessarily mean that we have to join his cause! Why not - we're the most dominant race of all!"

Although still furious beyond measure, not one person bothered to protest. Not one single groan, mutter, scream, roar, or any other defiant plea was issued, for it bore in their faces and knowing eyes all too clearly.

The Queen had gone too far, and the Elves as a whole felt hatred too great to control, too rapidly increasing in size to ever fade. They all stood there, unblibking, disbelieving, gazing back upon her rebelliously.

The shade form the towering trees bore down on them all, their faces half-hidden in darkness, giving them all a bitter, ghostly look; the Queen, on the other hand, was fully exposed in bright sunlight, as if withering under its rays.

But there was, however, a hole in Islanzadi's claim, inevitable to conceal. Standing tall and proud, the Queen made as if to turn and walk away when Arya suddenly stated, "Are you sure of this, Queen?"

Islanzadi halted, spinning around.

"Of course I'm sure!" she angrily spat.

Many bystanders narrowed their eyes even deeper in disgust if possible.

Arya smirked slightly, edged forward, and hissed, " Very well, Hinus, but do tell me this one inquiry I have for you to explain."

The Queen bit her tongue, spitting, "With pleasure - but before you do - let me guess. I presume that you wish to know how a deceitful brat like you came form such a noble woman like me? To answer, it's most likely form your idiot father."

The crowd of citizens yelled out indignatly at this, bellowing out all kinds of nasty insults to Islanzadi,

Arya, however, had not appeared to be disturbed, but rather pleased.

Calmy and cleverly, she rhetorically stated, "No your Magesty, I want to know why we're fleeing Ellesmera to find settlemtn in the Empire for pay, if it's the Empire's soldiers in the first place running us out! Now, why would that make sense?"

Islanzadi could no longer contain herself, ans she showed her shock s her lower jaw dropped in response, horrified that her plans left her foot in her mouth.

The citizens did not know how to respond - some stood frigidly still while others shuffled about anxiously.

Never has the respected, delicate nature of Elves acted in such a manner ever before. Never has the enitre city been more outraged and mortified in centuries past.

Islanzadi sucked in her cheekbones, eyes swiveling back and forth at the many grimaces gleaming before her.

After a minute's pause, Arya finally concluded, "Because she's selling somethng out, obviously. It could be our city, for when the soldiers come don't you think they'll want shelter? Why will thirty thousand men come here if Galbatorix knows she's coming to him for land? Something's wrong - something doesn't make sense. I can't quite figure it out - there's just too much deceit in her words. Maybe thirty thousand troops marching this way is a lie, or she could have been lying about buying land from the foul king. Either way, both of those claims together do not make sense. There has to be more to the story - or if not, she added somehting untrue. Why don't you go ahead and answer that one, Hinus?"

Arya finished with a mocking remark, sarcastically miming courtsiing before leaving her mother's side, stepping farther back, and stood near the people.

This was something that was never done, however, emotions were too high and too tense for the Elves to show even more surprise at the gesture.

Slightly shaking form fear or fury, for it was unreadable, as Islanzadi slowly replied, "The thing is I don't know if Galbatorix will accept my offer. We don't have anybody against his troops, we're too outnumbered."

"LIAR!" several bellowed.

_"I'm selling you out so I can become King Galbatorix's noble!" _Islanzadi screamed, horrified at her words.

Many once more became grave at her outburst, seething. The Queen herself was mortified at revealing this, and immediately clasped her hands over her mouth, as if fearing to speak ever again. Her three advisors, whom already had been aware of this, cast her furious looks for not controlling herself.

"Overthrow her!" The crowd began to roar, throwing their fists in the air while others lightly pushed forward Arya , who refused the offer by remaining in her place.

"What's the point if we do that, folks, because it still doesn't change the fact that she sent for troops to execute the action," Oromis said quietly, his echoing voice silencing them all.

From nowhere he and Glaedr walked in upon the scene, standing next to Arya. Saphira, she presumed, must have been at the dragon hold guarding Eragon.

Startled by his presence, the crowd remained perfectly still and tongue-locked as they could think of nothing to say. They had been betrayed, sold out to the enemy as slaves bound to a dictator's rein.

Arya slowly shook her head, questioning, "How long have you planned this?"

Islanzadi's chin jutted upwards with pride, snapping, "My business is that of my own. Now, we were going to travel with the soldiers of our free will, but you've forced me no choice. Tomorrow morning, by noon at the latest, they will come. All those who resist will be slaughtered. What a fortunate event has occured for my fool of a daughter, the rider, and its dragon to have come just in time. You can leave with him if you like, try to flee, or all of you, for that matter! But be warned, Galbatorix's troops didn't just travel one way, but in a direction that is surrounding Ellesmera! And they're not alone - they have the Ra'zac with them! Nine of them! They should make up for the Shades' absence. Oh - and I've been told also that captives who still attempt resistance will have their ears cut off as a sign of dishonor. Only honorable, loyal elves shall keep their mark of pointed ears."

Many snorted at the idea as if it would ever happen without a fight.

With a sigh, Oromis exclaimed, "Any real honorable elf wouldn't be taken alive unless overpowered or unconsious or unwillingly bound. You forget that although I am crippled, Glaedr is well and able enough to demolish potential threats."

On cue, Glaedr dug his golden paw into the Earth and uttered a low growl, his fangs prominently in view. Numerous citizens smirked at this gurantee, blatantly ignoring the still futile chance of survival.

_"And,"_ Arya stressed with a grin, "Eragon may be injured, but his dragon, Saphira, is most certainly not."

At this, several cheers issued in a glee, resulting in a grimacing, cursing Islanzadi, who was foolish to forget these factors.

Clearing her throat and proudfully announcing, she said, "Did I mention _thirty thousand_ men and nine Ra'zac?"

"You are an abomination to all Elves!" Many began to claim loudly.

Suddenly glacning at Oromis, Arya noticed that he had been glaring at her ever since she mentioned Eragon and Saphira. Returning a quizzical look, Arya edged closer to make a puzzle confrontation, while Oromis brushed her off as Islanzadi, her advisors, and guards finally returned to the palace.

"Fool," he finally spat, dismounting Glaedr.

"What did I do now?" she asked hotly.

"Leave now, as soon as you can with Eragon and Saphira. ," he hissed, suspiciously searching for any eavesdroppers.

Her face immedaitely became puzzled and confused, unsure of how to appropiately reply. Only an hour ago she felt bitter anger towards Oromis until she realized her Queen's treason.

"I have to save this place and defend it with my life!" Arya at last protested.

Oromis haughtily shook his head, whispering a demand, "Honestly, Arya Svit-kona, you don't suppose we'll compare in the slightest to that army! I've foreseen the outcome, and it's not polite in the least. Glaedr and I will most definitely become captured, which we do not regret. The Ra'zac are terribly underrated, and they'll manage to birng us both back alive for purposes of their own. That is certain."

He ended with a pleading shout, grabbing her by the shoulders.

By now, many Elves had been conversing loudly among others, making Arya's and Oromis' debate unnoticed.

Arya shook her head firmly, tears leaking from her eyelids.

"No, no, this can't be!" she trembled.

"You, Eragon, and Saphira have a chance to escape! You must leave soon and discreetly, you must! Ride hard, land rarely. This place will be a heap of ashes before it is safe to return."

"Yes, but it's not a heap of ashes yet!" Arya cried, jerking out of Oromis's grasp.

He stomped his foot on the ground, angrily replying, "There is a much more important battle to come that must have you and that Rider in it! Listen to me! Flee! Now!"

But it was no use, because Arya was already long gone jostling through the dispersing crowd towards Oromis'stree hut. She ran at such great speed that she was a mere blur. Bustling through the thin wooden doors, Arya clambered inside to find a startled Saphira and still slumbering Eragon.

_"What's happened?" _Saphira asked anxiously, peering through the archway.

Arya briefly recapped all the main points as she quickly pulled on Eragon's shirt over his head, filled up several canteens from a fresh water basin, grabbed wool blankets from Oromis's dresser, and finally heaved him up onto Saphira's back.

She too climbed on top, urging Saphira up and out the ovalur roof many feet above.

"_Loathesome traitor of treason to her own blood!" _Sahpira finally managed to exclaim, her massive wings flapping viciously over the dominating tree tops of Ellesmera.

Nearing the exit most commonly used, Arya hastily said, "Bring me down quickly - I have one last thing to do!"

_"What?" _Saphira questioned, but received no answer.

Landing at the entrance/exit to Ellesmera, Arya hopped off and dashed between angry guards towards her previous home.

"STOP HER!" One yelled.

Knowing exactly where she was headed, she eventually came across her dead father's study. She darted in to the back corner, and snatched a beautiful, deep blue sword and its sheath from its frame. Half a second later, two of the provoke guards ran into the room, bellowing out orders.

"It is not yours - it's properly of Queen Islanzadi!" They shouted.

"Then come and take it form me."

They advanced; she easily shoved them off as she dashed out speedily, soon leaping onto Saphira's back. Several onlookers cheered words of comfort and safety as they dismounted.

As they rose into the air, Arya noticed Oromis and Glaedr on her left, throwing warning looks, and on the right, she saw Islanzadi, swarmed among body guards, casting her a bitter smirk.

* * *

A/N: What do you think? Is there anything I could've done to make it better? What do you think of the plot? Are you understanding or do you feel confused? 

Whatever it is, please share your thouts!

If you spent this long reading the whole thing, then you can spend two minutes reviewing!

Please REVIEW!

* * *

Yes that's right . . . I'm talking to the reader who's thinking of not reviewing. 

You can give an anonymous review if you want, I enabled it for more reviews.

* * *

One reader informed me that there were only four Ra'zacs. My mistake. 

Umm . . .lol...i guess we'll just pretend that there are supposed to be nine ra'zacs . . .

dont know what else...already wtote chapter where they battle against the nine. . . well..

w/e . . . mine is just a lil different form what its supposed to be


	12. Chapter 12

_Purple Stone_

**Chapter Twelve: Crossroads of the damned**

A/N: This chapter, especially at the end, is very depressing. It was necessary, though, to show the brutality of the king and the hardships that the Varden are having to go through in the war against Galbatorix.

So . . .

I warned you.

* * *

The city of Gil'ead loomed upon the Varden captives and the Shade group mockingly. Following a roughly organized road of dirt, they miserably walked past large, luxurious houses for at least four miles. Only thirty people of the Varden (that went into the Burning Plains for battle) remaining - several were barely managing to stumble along after the rough experience of travel through magic with the Shades and Dragon Rider.

Although it saved many days of laborous traveling by foot, the magic still impacted the Varden heavily, making them more easily wearisome. Advancing towards Galbatorix's castle would have proven much easier and swifter for them if Famke would allow them to travel by magic again, but she had simply refused, saying that once reaching the city, they must travel by foot to appreciate its beauty.

But Gil'ead was certainly _not _'beautiful.'

The city did, however, hold such an air of impressiveness and awe, the great but terrible atmosphere. Even the mere dirt on the ground seemed of the highest form, with all the buildings and houses of the topmost class.

Although they trudged past many, the more notable features included a vicinity, with buildings for artisians, merchants, tailors, bakeries, a butchery, and a bank, all on the left of the road; a broad area of the gallows, consisting of twenty nooses, all on the right of the road; also including the prison, dark and damp with several guards on each side; then directly next to the prison lay the fire pit, a bricked in hit with steel post-like bars and iron door.

Needless to say, no guards had to remain at the place.

As theu passed by shamefully, Nasuada hadn't the motivation to shield Elva's eyes from the dead bodies in the nooses of the gallows and heads on pikes at the roof of the prison. Only ashes remain in the fire pit.

But long before the more prominet features were observed by captives, they first seemed to acknowledge the citizens stopping to point and either grin or rush back to their homes back down the road.

Determined not to let any wicked being impune her honor, Nasuada kept her head held high with her chin jutted upwards . Everyone else of the captured Varden held a similar suit of composure, although fear clung in the pit of their hearts and upturned stomachs.

The fact was short and simple, and they all knew it: they were doomed.

Even more urged onward further along the road, Galbatorix's castle loomed in sight. Citizens and guards and soldiers attentively watched the solemn arrivers. Unlike the happy greetings that Eragon and Saphira received form their allies, Murtagh and Thorn, who chugged along from the back, were completely ignored.

Kritzl also glided alongside Murtagh, while Zymphadorus walked among the middle of the captives. Famke, of course, lead in the front next to Nasuada and Elva (as always).

On the last ending of the dirt road there was a great, white courthouse towards the left. Only a few more feet forward, the ominous glimpse of Galbatorix's castle grew in sight.

Here the road was paved, cobbled stone and perfectly leveled. Nasuada wondered the cost of all these great but terrible luxories in the city of Gil'ead.

Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted when, without warning, Famke summoned magic to glide them over twenty miles of the road at lightening speed.

Her stomach throttling from the intense jolt, Nasuada groaned as they landed only a few feet from the towering, massive black gate. Nearly fifty soldiers stood armed at the iron posts, and there were even eight archers on the top of the castle, overseeing apprehensively.

Suddenly approaching the gate, the head guard roughly spat, "What took you so long?"

Famke bit her lip, and nearly jerked her head upwards as she bitterly replied, "Our business is only needed for our King's ears. Open the gate . . . _human_."

At her last word she implied tauntingly, gloating silently that she was a Shade. The soldier twitched irratably, and with bitter reluctance, turned and opened the gate.

Many of the captive Varden soliders solemnly entered the black, marble slab of a pathway to the castle. Nearing the entrance door, the entire party grimly recognized hundreds of heads on pikes around the castle. Every now and then a crude vulture flocked to them, nipping at the remains.

The scene was so brutal and grotesque that a few wretched as they marched towards hell's door.

It reminded Nasuada of the morning that she had awoken to hundreds of her soldiers dead because of the Shadwoman. She automatically, subconsciously balled her hand into a fist, knuckles whitening.

Even more soldiers guarded the castle's door like hawks, grimly allowing them in. They all entered, every single soul except for Murtagh and his dragon. This was because, as the soldier had explained, only one important dragon and rider were allowed in the great hall; undoubtedly implying to Galbatorix and Shruikan as the more important and dominant pair.

Murtagh and Thorn angrily remained by the outside wall until everyone else had entered, chains still attached to the captives as if slaves.

The Great Hall was a large, open space, too dark to decipher where the walls were precisely. The air of it felt so empty that Nasuada was certain that there was no roof overhead, although, ironically, there was a low black chandelier lit with dripping candles.

The party of thirty Varden captives anxiously awaited in what seemed the middle of the room, under the great chandelier. There seemed to be nobody inside except the guards who had opened the door for them, which, by now had shut the massive door to enclose them in the wicked blackness.

Only the Shades, Famke, Kritzl, and Zymphadorus barricaded Nasuada's soldiers from escaping. The hollowness of the room and the silence seemed louder than death's calling.

Nothing to do but wait . . . . . . . .

Wait for death, slavery, torture and punishment . . . just wait.

Suddenly a screech and a thud occured all at once, as a tremendous shady figure advanced towards them. Many shuddered; the Shades grinned. Another thud, thud, thud.

Then an immedaite rush towards them, the blackness approaching with a gust of wind and fear.

There mounted Galbatorix upon Shruikan, gracefully sliding off the black beast's back.

"Welcome," he said deeply, his voice even hallower than the very room.

He haughtily approached as Shruikan growled, shaking his eerie black scales as if a wet dog. The dragon's eyes were of a deep, blood red and talons deceived and grimly yellow. The mere aura of it was intimidating and wretched.

Galbatorix beckoned his dragon to scuttle backwards, then he himself stopped before Nasuada, Elva, and Famke.

"Ahh . . . my guests have arrived in suitable condition," he said, his voice evil and mysteriously sleek.

A man nearby Nasuada scoffed.

Holding her head up high, Nasuada bitterly stated, "If you wish to kill me then I'll sacrifice my life gladly. But my soldiers and the young girl must go unharmed."

Most surprisingly, Kritzl, from the back of the great hall, cackled demonically while Galbatorix remained unnerved.

"Yes, Kritzl . . . her statement is rather . . . _amusing_..."

Kritzl silenced himself as if ordered.

"...but," Galbatorix continued, "she is only doing what a proud queen would do. I admire your bravery, Hinus, honestly I do."

Nasuada's face crinkled angrily, stammering, "Go to hell!"

Silence.

After a long pause he bent over and hissed in her ear, "_Where do you think we are, then, if not hell?_"

"KILL US NOW!" the same man that had scoffed earlier bellowed.

Pretending as if he had not heard, Galbatorix gazed down at his boots, shaking his head. At the same time, the man that had scoffed and bellowed out, started to gag and sputter, digging his hands in his mouth.

Many stirred, gaping in awe as his tongue was ripped out by an invisible force, and flopped around on the floor for several seconds before it ceased.

The man, however, was spitting out blood, eyes bulging and watering at the great amount of pain that must have been. He began to writhe on the floor.

The others were too shocked and frightened to help him, so they watched him bleed and stammer while Galbatorix continued to stare at his boots, as if he was unaware of the atrocity occuring near him.

Then, the man stopped, and was still, forever more. He was dead.

"I want my payment, Your MAgesty, as promised," Famke demanded; although she had been quiet, her voice echoed throught the petrified-filled room.

"_Soon. _The elf will be within reach soon . . . then you'll get what we bargained for and trazi de hjarta will fully fall into place."

He then muttered something along the lines of, "fool Oromis," and, "as if he could stop the transaction."

Many captives remained quite still, but nevertheless trembled, fear gripping them.

Then, Galbatorix looked up, quickly glanced at Nasuada, then began to pace around the Varden, glaring at them one by one.

"All of them are wounded in some way or another . . . all of them traumatized . . . all of them full of cowardice and hate. They are no good for my army..." he snarled disapprovingly, casting the Shades a nasty look.

The men continued to hold their breaths; the women trembled.

Counting, Galbatorix realized that there was only six women upon the captives. He began to contemplate what he would do with the men and women.

Shruikan began to hiss like a snake, licking his giant, fat lips and pounding the floor with his paw. Galbatorix snickered, understanding.

He went around, tapping the most injured men on the arm, and gestured to the right of him. They quietly obeyed, occasionally glancing up at Nasuada, whom attempted to return a comforting, supportive look.

Then, without warning, Shruikan swiped his forearm at them, knocking down the eleven injured men he had been granted. The soldiers yelped, groping and scrabmling to their feet as Shruikan snorted fire and grinded his teeth down on them.

The _crunch _of bones and squeals and screams of men were more terrifying than even the loudest sound of a battle drum form a terrible army.

Elva squeezed Nasuada's hand so hard that the queen couldn't feel her fingers.

The remaining men and women shook uncontrollably, horribly frightened.

Galbatorix approached the, the men, in particular, and announced, "My soldier, or my ashes in my fire pit?"

The men did not move, did not answer, and did not stir.

They waited.

All but one finally stated, "Soldiers . . ."

Galbatorix grinned, ushering his near soldiers to his left, and shoved the defiant one, who's rather burn, towards the Shades so that they would constrain him until they went to town to observe the smoldering flames.

Then, Galbatorix approached the women, and tonelessly said, "My concubine, or my ashes in my fire pit?"

They began to snivel.

Then they began to weep. All of them.

Nasuada began to cry, and then sobbed. She knew she wouldn't be killed or a concubine of the king's, it's just that the scene was so unbearably miserable and incredibly wicked that she couldn't contain herself. Her people were about to be dying very painfully or living in vain.

The women were not able to answer, so Galbatorix did for them.

"Ashes . . . but you six will burn separately from that man . . . . . and we will use small flames . . . . slowly. . . "

Nasuada fell upon the floor, Elva clutching her, weeping too hard for tears to pour.

* * *

A/N : Please review.

I really, really, really want to know what the reader was thinking when they finished the chapter.

It doesn't have to be something nice . . just a review.

_**Please review.**_


	13. Chapter 13

_Purple Stone_

Chapter Thirteen: Sacrifice

Eragon gasped.

_"Eragon!"_ Saphira yelled mentally.

Eragon staggered upright, panting heavily. He glanced about him, seeing Saphira laying languidly at his side. He realized that he was outside, at dark, and had been laying on a leaf mat near a small camp fire.

The air was chilly and bitter, feeling most different from past heat exposures. His chest heaved a great pain, especially on his left. Just then a feathery light hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Arya . . . " he exclaimed breathlessly.

She was wearing her usual black leather form, as most traveling Elven women did. He himself was wearing deep brown pants, thin but tough black boots, a light blue long-sleeved shirt, and an olive green half-sleeved vest.

* * *

(Eragon's wearing what Legolas did a lot in Lord of the Rings)

* * *

"How long?" he asked, before she could utter a word. 

"Too long," she answered quickly, with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Eragon nodded miserably, ruffling his short, dark brown hair, his deep blue eyes occasionally sparkling from the fire's flickering glows.

"Where are we?" he said at last, heavily plopping back down on his bedmat.

"Kurtan, an old small town used mainly for trade an commerce."

_"Hello Saphira,"_ Eragon hastily said through their mental link.

She winked.

"But we are on wooded ground . . . I thought we were in the forest or something?" Eragon added aloud, puzzled.

Arya smirked, tossing small sticks in the fire to maintain it.

_"We need to talk later . . but now . . listen to Arya," _Saphira managed to say.

Eragon nodded, and glanced back towards the beautiful elf in fornt of him.

Arya felt his gaze, but kept her eyes firmly on the fire, and finally stated, "We are on the edge of the town - and even if we were inside it - the scenery would be exactly as it is now. This place is only ten miles from Ellesmera."

Eragon straightened up, his attention clasped.

And if as a young schoolboy, he excitedly exclaimed, "Really? Are we going back then?"

Saphira, perching nearby, shook her head and snorted, uttering a warning sign. He looked back at Arya and noticed she too had an unmistakable bitterness about the mention of her homeland.

"Is . . . is something wrong?" he asked with awkwardness, feeling his face redden.

Arya shook her head, replying, "Actually, Eragon, we're so near Ellesmera because we were just there a day ago. Oromis and Glaedr healed you - but only partially. . . tmeporarily. Only you can break the spell inflcited upon you."

Eragon gasped ridiculously, as if stupified. Saphira gestured back at the direction towards Arya, avoiding mental contact.

Finally, he said, "Spell? From who?"

Actually stunned from his comment, Arya paused for a moment, wondering or not whether she could become physically ill at his words.

"Of course you know who did it. Galbatorix! You've been asleep too much . . . eat something," she said, bitterly.

Eragon gritted his teeth.

"Fine. But what about leaving Ellesmera so quickly? the Varden are still in preparation for another battle so we'll at least have a few more days with the Elves, surely?"

"No quite. Nasuada and the rest of the Varden at the Burning Plains were captured. Their fate is uncertain but very grim."

Eragon's jaw dropped and eyes bulged.

"Tell me everything."

Arya obliged, consisting of a long, explanatory speech.

Nearly two hours later, she had narrated everything she had encountered from traveling to Ellesmera - to rumors of Nasuada - to being at Ellesmera - to rumors again - to Islanzadi's treason - to Oromis's warning - to travel - and everything up to current events.

The entire time, of course, she had contained an emotionless composure and near monotone voice . Eragon, however, had become grave and solemn. Determined to remain a grip over himself, he had been nibbling on stale bread for something to do the entire conversation.

"What about the Empire's soldiers? Islanzadi said that they were - "

"She's a lying, bumbling, bluffing coward! They are at least a two days worth of travel away."

Arya'a eyes narrowed, her cunning wisdom reading Eragon's words easily.

"What can we do? Thousands are on our and the Elve's tail! Especially you! We MUST be discreet!"

"Let them find me, I'm more tha ready," Eragon spat in reply. He ignored Saphira's disappriving growl and warning s as she shuffled around.

Arya chuckled unexpectedly.

"If he kills you then it's the quickest way to kill your dragon, Eragon - he won't kill you - he doesn't give a damn about you. He needs Saphira for breeding purposes. If he finds you - he will _torture _you into insanity. He just wants to _hurt _you - other than that, he could give a damn!"

Eragon seethed, "I bet he will once at the point of my sword."

Saphira snorted and spoke to him mentally, but he was too frustrated to pay attention.

"Maybe," Arya replied with slight amusement.

"Besides. . .why can't we go rescue the others?" Eragon said, near desperation.

Arya sighed, and answered, "Gil'ead is the most dangerous place to be right now. Nasuada will definitely be kept alive - Elva maybe. The others' fate look bleak . . and my guess woulod be that they become slaves or prisoners or dead. We're laying low, and in the processheading towards Surda. If we travel lightly and cover any traces left behind, we can arrive there by first light tomorow."

"What about the Elves? What about Ellesmera?"

"For years that ancient city has been corrupted by my mother after my father's death. After all of those decades, I suppose my mother finally took her toll on us. The city will ultimately fall."

Arya finished her response with slight bitterness, but other than that she had remained quite calm.

Eragon was indignant.

"But they're your people! With Saphira and I at your side we shall dominate in battle!"

Arya huffed.

"Alas - you can not think things clearly. One of your problems is that you fail to understand the benifts of sacrifice. Do you think I want my friends. . my _family . . _to be slaughtered by the king's army? What part about _thirty thousand_ do you not understand? What part about your curse do you not understand? Do you want me to spell it out for you? ELLESMERA IS RUINED. THE VARDEN'S CAPTIVES ARE DEAD! YOU ARE ON THE VERGE OF LIFE AND DEATH!"

She paused, fuming, and continued, "Can't you accept the fact that they are meant to die in order to save the cause against tyranny - to give us a chance to survive? Not everybody can be saved!"

Eragon opened his mouth to snap back in reply, but Saphura silenced him.

_"Let her words stand, respect her decision. She's been through a lot."_

Eragon was outraged - not at Arya - but what had made her say such things. He was horribly angry at himself for not being conscious during the time of the captured Varden and Ellesmera's doom. It seemed that no other outcome could occur except to die or becom e a slave.

He felt tremendously responsible for all of the blood on the ground across Alagaesia . . . for Nasuada . . and Elva. . only a child. .

He glanced up at Arya, who's face was blotted red and unable to face him.

Eragon immedaitely wanted to embrace her, to beg . . but he had not the strength to make her further sad or angry. . .

Saphira was right.

She had been through a lot.

Eragon's eyes began to water, but he quickly brushed back his tears with his sleeve. He stood up, hands on his head, and paced around the clearing that they had been resting upon.

Words escaped him. Anxiety enveloped all over him.

Eragon was too overwhelmed to fully bu able to think through all of the things that Arya had discussed with him.

He felt that everybody hated him . . and with good reason.

It seemed to him as if Arya ahted him, as if the captured Varden hated him for being ill, he felt as if all Alagaesia hated him for stirring up the contents of war!

_"You're thinking nonsense, Eragon . . " _Saphira reproached.

Eragon saw Arya glance up at him out of the corner of his eye, and with a new surge of emotion, toppled to his knees and began to viciously throw up his bread.

He wretched until his insides were sore - until there was absolutely nothing left to sputter.

"Come on," Arya said, helping him up by the shoulder.

Eragon staggered upward, breathing deeply. Arya aided him back to the bedmat and handed him a water jug, in which he gratefully accepted.

* * *

Before he had realized what had happened, Eragon awoke abruptly to shrill screams of raging wind and a thundering, moving beat of large, flapping wings. 

It was very dark, but dawn was nearing.

Moisture in the air whispered against him, roughly rubbing his eyes and straightening upwards. Eragon further realized that he had been sleepng at the front of the saddle on Saphira, while Arya sat behind him and held onto the handle. They were hundreds of feet high in the cool air, with few streams of light beginning to trickle throught the cracks of the sky.

_"We left late, so we won't reach Surda's border until noon. But I am tired, so we will probably land as soon as dawn approaches more fully, as previously planned." _Saphira explained cheerfully.

_"What happened now?" _Eragon groggily thought with slight bitterness.

He still felt anxious and giddy, still shook up from several hours ago. Eragon's nerves constantly twitched, and his thoughts relentless flickered on and off over his failure to save his world. . . .

_"You passed out. Arya assumed that you shouldn't have eaten your food so fast since it had been days since you had eaten in the first place. She and I also thought that you had become ill. What are you so nervous about?"_

Eragon sighed. He did not answer Saphira, but instead forced himself to think of something pleasant. All he thought of was the Varden and Ellesmera.

"I'm so sorry," he managed to say, quietly.

"Don't be," Arya answered, quite suddenly.

Just then Saphira had ceased flapping, and instead gently glided downwards rather gracefully.

Saphira had landed in the middle of an extremely dense brush, twice as much more forrested and wild than the place they had settled the past night. There was no clearing, only mossy grounds, trees, taller trees, and springs.

It beautifully reminded Eragon of Ellesmera, only untamed and not nearly as classy as the Elven City.

He immedaitely leapt off of Saphira's back, ruffling his short hair and glancing around. Arya slowly dismounted after him, and with an impatient flutter of her wings, Saphira wordlessly sprang upwards and began to fly off.

Arya sighed. "She misses you, she's been worried sick. Have you conversed with her since you came conscious?"

Eragon approached a nearby tree, gingerly tapped it, and turned to lean against it. "Hardly," he shamefully admitted.

Arya needn't have replied, for her cunning smile and gleaming eyes bore it all.

"Okay. . " Eragon huffed, hands on his hips and head towards the sky.

_"Saphira. . . this is enough. Please come back. I want to talk to you and we need our things that are in your saddle bags." _He managed, sincerely yet tentatively.

Nothing.

A whistle of wind whirred around him. Arya gazed at the floor and back at the sky constantly, as if waiting for Saphira's sudden return.

Nothing.

Eragon remained rigid, no longer ashamed but now irratated. He then folded his arms and determinedly looked about him to distract himself.

Trees cluttered every bit of space every two feet or so. They were so tall that it seemed as if dawn was not minutes away, but long hours. Dark soil, droppings of leaves, and tree limbs littered the flooring space. In the far distance, barely visible to his keen eyes, Eragon spotted a stream and a small clearing very far away.

Arya stamped her foot, roughly snapping Eragon back to the present. He quickly glanced up at her, questioningly, but instantly stared at the ground because of the strong glare that she was throwing him.

"Do you know how long Saphira babbled to me last night about how excited she was for you to be conscious? Did it not occur to you that Saphira may have had something to add to what I explained last night . . or were you too selfish and only thought of me, only because you love me and I deny you - so you turned your back on one of your closest friends?"

Eragon dared not believe his ears. Before, he had been so nervous and anxious about the troubles against war against Galbatorix. He had also been extra wrecked because he was falling in even more love with Arya.

But now, he was actually frightened. There were too many feelings to contain. He was so emmbarassed, so gut-wrenching ashamed of himself that he wanted so desperately to yank ihmself out of his skin and become anybody else . . even a tree . . .

Eragon opened his mouth to reply, his face completely scarlet, but Arya brushed him off, snapping, "Save it! Make sure Saphira is okay."

He steadied himself . . slowed his running thoughts, and finally thought, _"Saphira, please come back. I am really sorry. I am very, very, very sorry I ignored you and only thought of others' pain and my own selfish desire. I was so ignorant not to think of what may have happened to you. I know I don't deserve it, but could you please come back so we can fix this and Arya doesn't hate me half as much as what she already does?" _

_"You are ignorant! You're a fool! She doesn't - I'm here." _Saphira gruffly snapped.

Eragon quickly looked up, and removed himself from the tree. Saphira was sitting in front of him, her chest heaving greatly because of her angry breathing.

Without hesitation, Arya stormed towards Saphira, snatched two of the three saddlebags, and stomped towards the other direction so fast that Eragon couldn't place where she had dashed off to.

Eragon and Saphira were alone.

_"I'm sorry." _

_No - you don't understand why you're sorry - you're just embarassed."_ Saphira raged, unusually cold.

_"I am sorry. I do understand what it feels like to be ignored and taken for granted. I love you. Please forgive me." _

Saphira paused, her saphire eyes large and glowing, her chest's heaves slowing to a normal pace, her talons wrenching through the dirt as she shifted uncomfortably.

_"Fine." _

Eragon cautiously looked up, his eyes into hers. Nothing more was said, only rustles of leaves and overlapping water in the distance. After several minutes of nothing, Saphira eventually approached him, her head nuzzling his side.

Eragon was too afraid to ask what was lingering inside his head, but their link was far too strong for him to hide it.

_"She's bathing in the stream. She is still very angry."_

Eragon nodded, backing once more to the tree, and slid down until his knees were level with his face. Over an hour they remained there, silent, Saphira beside him and Eragon against the tree.

Finally, _"What about your experiences?" _Eragon said.

Saphira snorted. _"Exactly the same as Arya's, only through my eyes. She was bluffing when she spoke of things occuring to me. She and I have been growing closer to one another and she realized I felt left out. I don't think she meant to say all of what she did earlier. She may not have meant to say it aloud, but she still spoke of truth. Understand?"_

_"I do." _

They remained there for several hours, beside each other, until at last Arya had come back, throwing down the saddle bags and unfolding her Elven bedmat.

"We're not leaving until tomorrow night. Galbatorix sent more of his soldiers towards Ellesmera - so it is necessary to stay hidden until they pass," she announced distantly.

* * *

A/N:

It;s only getting more and more serious/dramatic.. please review to share your insight from this chapter and where you think its going . . . what you might think will happen. . or what you want to happen . . or what you don'r want to happen.

Even if it is to say, "I love/hate your story," just. . say anything! Please review, anything you want to say . . say it!!!

For those who often read and review, thank you very much and please review once more.


	14. Chapter 14

_Purple Stone_

**Chapter Fourteen: Silence**

Eragon barely slept that night, after only sitting solemnly nearly the entire day. It was no different when he laid his head down to rest.

Arya's words constantly bombarded his consciousness, guilt and shame pursuing him._"were you too selfish and only thought of me, only because you love me and I deny you ..."_

_"So she knows,"_ Eragon thought mildly, contemplating the matter for the thousandth time.

_"She's always known about your love for her,"_ Saphira replied deeply, completely drowsy.

Before dawn, Eragon had abandoned attempt of sleep and had wandered off through the forest, colelcting wild berries and nuts and fruits. Although they grew unattended by farmers or care, they were among the best food Eragon had ever eaten. Or maybe it was because he hadn't eaten properly in over a week. . .

After first light seeped through the cracks of the towering trees of the forest they were in, Eragon had managed to make a tastey salad with berries and fruits and had placed it in leather-skin bowls form the saddle bags and carved wooden forks from fallen trees.

Arya had been dowsing the fire and packing up her sleeping mat when he approached tentatively.

"Hungry?" he asked, carefully.

Eragon held out an extended arm while he sheepishly glanced at her.

At first, it looked as though she would ignore him, but Arya finally half-smiled and gently took it from him.

It didn't take long for the both of them to finish devouring their salads; and it didn't help that Saphira was imaptiently flying above them, noisly fluttering her wings.

Apparently, she was anxious to leave.

"Not until tonight," Arya boredly stated, tossing aside her bowl.

Although it was still early, the humidity from the morning dew made it unbearably hot. Tossing aside his bowl, Eragon threw off his olive green overshirt and rolled his blue long sleeve shirt up to his elbows.

He made as if to leave, but Arya had stopped him, stretching out her arm in front of him. "I have something for you," she calmly explained, as Eragon gave off a quizzical expression.

Swiftly glancing upwards, Arya seemed to have muttered something under her breath, but less than a second later Saphira had landed in front of them.

She beckoned for Eragon to come closer.

Perching marvelously in the slanting sunlit rays, Saphira seemed to have been enoying herself as Arya approached and withdrew one of the larger saddlebags. Saphira, cat-like, began to lick at her talons.

Eragon half-smiled at his dragon, and then attentively observed Arya unleash what seemed to be a sword in a brown leather sheath, with a silver hilt and handle. Arya faced him, serious and stern.

"I want you to have this, it belonged to my father," she said, grasping the hilt and retrieving a brilliant, navy blue sword of excellence Elven craftsmanship. It had wonderful, cursive caligraphy in the Ancient Language in silver engraving on the sides of the sword.

Eragon was so amazed by the beauty of it that he didn't waste time in reading the caligraphy, and instead eagerly took it from Arya's giving fingers.

He couldn't tell what Saphira had thought of it, she seemed to be pleased but for some reason, Eragon thought she would be disappointed because the color was too deep and dark of a blue to match her bright saphire scales.

"It's fantastic!" he exclaimed, examining it jubilantly. Arya actually smiled, her emerald eyes gleaming. Eragon actually laughed out loud at the thought.

"_With all these pretty colors flashing I'll blind myself!" _he joked mentally.

Saphira chortled, rumbling against the ground as she straightened upwards. Grasping the sword firmly, Eragon animatedly gazed at it form all angles before Arya softly said, "It never dulls, breaks, and will never slip from your fingers. If this sword is taken from you when it is not in your hand, its' damage will cease at you and those that you love - so your enemy can never use it against you."

Eragon finally, reluctantly, put it in the sheath and tied the belt around his waist.

"I really can't thank you enough, Arya Svit-Kona . . . it is gorgeous."

Arya brushed back her hair, and glanced form Saphira to him.

"I know it is not the color of your dragon . . .but it is the color of your eyes."

Silence.

Saphira rustled, shifting positions once more - Eragon flushed.

He truthfully had never really examined his eye color. In fact, the last time he looked at his appearance was the night that the dragons had transformed him; but even then, he merely glanced at his changed appearance rather than study himself long enough to know that his eyes were - as hinted - _gorgeous_.

Eragon blushed once more, lingering over the word. He had never applied that to himself before, nor had he meant to a few seconds ago. He half wished he didn't compliment his new sword so lavishly for it to only rebound back to him.

"I appreciate you giving me this sword, but . . Arya . . I'll understand if you really want to keep on to it because it was your father's," he reproached, almost expecting her to act sentimental.

On the contrary, Arya's composure seemed animated and more self pleased than upset over handing away her father's sword.

She firmly shook her head. "I have my own craft, and you are in desperate need of your own. What better for me to do with my father's possession than to give it to you? I would not allow my mother to give it to Galbatorix for extra money for her monstrous luxuries."

Eragon sheepishly grinned, staring at his boots nervously.

Even though his eyes were completely averted from her, Eragon could clearly see exactly how lovely and graceful she was - as she was wearing a sleeveless white tunic with a v neck and a steel, triangular arrow head hanging around hre neck through a thin strand of rope.

His eyes embedded upon his boots, he suddenly saw a pair of slender feet in leather sandals stop in front of him. Eragon looked up expectantly, as Arya was directly in front of him.

"Eragon . . ." she spoke quietly, near whisper.

They were so close that their faces were no more than a foot and a half apart, emerald clashing against navy . . .

"Yes?" he inquired cautiously.

Saphira stirred in the background, intently observing.

"I'm sorry if my words hurt you last night. I had never planned on saying them aloud."

Eragon nearly recoiled, instant pain and fear smashing inside his consciousness. He knew good and well she had meant those things and was only sorry for allowing him to know of her disgust towards him.

"No . . . I - " he stammered.

Eragon couldn't talk. The most beautiful elf was standing in front of him, looking at him as a close friend as he looked to her as something a thousand times more . . .

He forced his eyes shut, beginning to struggle for breath. Eragon could barely tolerate the stress . . all he could focus on was leaning forward ever closer to kiss her and embrace her . . .

_"Careful, little one," _Saphira warned, perching upwards.

" . . . Nothing to apoloize for . . you spoke the truth," he muttered, locking his eyes shut and rubbing his face feverishly.

Arya remained silent, most likely unsure of how to respond to his strange behavior - which, undoubtedly, was becoming to be somehting on a regular basis.

Words tumbled down his brain and into his jaw, pounding on the back of his teeth as if to force him to say what he was trying so desperately to avoid.

_"Eragon," _Saphira snapped. Although their mental link was very strong, Eragon's thoughts and intentions were so jumbled that she couldn't half predict what he was about to do.

Arya stood before him patiently, gazing at him.

Eragon stopped rubbing his face, and blatantly opened his eyes, tears forming.

"I'm _so sorry_ about Faolin . . . and how you miss him so much. I couldn't imagine living life if someone I loved that much died . . . and-"

Eragon stopped himself, silent tears streaming, as he noticed Saphira's shock and Arya's own sudden sadness. Her own beautiful green eyes watered, and she immedaitely threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

When they pulled apart, Eragon quickly and bitterly rubbed his eyes dry and shuffled uncomfortably. Saphira eyed him suspiciously and Arya seemed calm yet somewhat distressed.

"Thank you," she mumbled, turning to walk away.

* * *

A/N: REVIEW!!! 

Please answer: What do you think of that scene?

* * *

if you've spent that much time reading that chapter, then spend two minutes to REVIEW!!!!!!

Remember . . anonymous reviews are allowed . . .


	15. Chapter 15

_Purple Stone_

Chapter Fifteen: The Delegates

The city of Aberon was Surda's capital and center of industrialization. It was a fine city, with flat lands and few trees. Many small shops and businesses were on the eastern part of town, while the western side had tidy villages overlooking the plains on a slowly sloping hill.

Southernmost of Aberon was slightly more of a high standard of living, with larger businesses and vicinities. This was the part of town in which King Orrin's manor lay. Not too shabby and not too refined, the manor had an open courtyard in front of the main entrance, where there was a small stadium where some of the entertainers performed plays and skits.

The actual manor itself was three stories tall, but each floor was already great in size. The main floor contained a great hall, where a large dining table and kitchen was for important table discussions from appointed business men or nobles with the king; and a humble courtroom, made for sentences for lawbreakers and wrongdoers and possible fines.

The second floor had a library, a superbly expensive yet petite inn, and a cafe. Whether to visit the library, stay in a room, eat at the cafe, or all three, there was much money to be spent. Most people who visited this floor were very wealthy people, such as nobles, business men, superior soldiers and others who worked for the king, and anybody else who had the money.

The third floor, smallest in size yet grandest in quality, was the king's chamber. He had an exceptional bedroom, bath house, and study - which were all connected. One of the windows from the study opened up to a foot long balcony, overseeing the courtyard out front.

In this very city of Aberon, in this exact manor, in this very topmost floor, in that very study, King Orrin paced about menacingly.

He had a conventional meeting in the coutroom in ten minutes' time with noblemen and delegates. Orrin did not know who the delegates were, nor did he think of asking. All he kew was that only a few minutes ago he was writing a speech for the few of the Varden who had either remained in Surda while Nasuada rounded the others up to seek settlement elsewhere, or the other few of the Varden in which had somehow managed to survive the Shades' ambush and seek safety within Surda's borders.

Most of the Varden that had survived were mainly women and children, only about a hundred in count, and a couple dozen of male soldiers.

Needless to say, every single one of them were infuriated with King Orrin for not attempting to rescue their captured or plead help from the Elves.

This is why Orrin paced so menacingly so. He was anxious about his speech, and was even more fearsome of the delegates and who they were and what they wanted from such a king. Sighing, Orrin changed into a black and gold dressrobe, untied his shoulder-length, curly blonde hair, and placed upon his slender golden crown.

Even with all of the tension in the air, Orrin still remained proud of himself as king and ruler of all Surda. Not even the scares and threats of war and angry citizens perturbed him to be the least of all ashamed.

Orrin was anxious, yet proud, stout, and unnecessarily conceited.

A strong series of knocks on the wooden door to his left startled him from his thoughts. Orrin hastily threw it open, staring at a young well-dressed appointed advisor, Evered.

"Yes?" Orrin gruffly inquired, waiting impatiently.

Evered immediately withdrew a palm sized scroll, and claritively answered, "Your Magesty, I am here on account of a conventional meeting and the neccessity of transporting you to the courthouse on the main floor. Do you oblige, sir?"

Evered's bored, black eyes rested upon Orrin.

"Oblige? What could you possibly do in the off chance that I refused, Evered? What authority are you under?" Orrin snapped roughly, jabbing his finger in the air.

Evered neatly rolled up the scroll, tucked it into a side pocket, and calmly folded his hands behind his back. He cleared his throat and straightened his posture.

"Eighth Decree of A-S-L-D-M, Ancient Surda Law Document of Morales, clause number twelve, plainly reads that under rare circumstances, such as court meetings, sudden conferences, meeting with the messengers, and any delegate present, the noblemen of Surda have the authority to revoke - "

"Yes, yes, I know the law, boy!" yelled Orrin, stamping his foot.

"Of course, Your Magesty, so it is clear that the authority I am holding over you abides from all of your countrymen, that you dare not _refuse_ or perhaps adjourn a necessary meeting with the delegates - "

"Evered! Fine! For the god's sakes, boy!" Orrin thundered, balling up his fists by his sides.

Evered grinned, furthermore requesting, "Do you oblige, sir?"

Orrin snarled, and bitterly shook his head forward.

"Then follow me, Your Magesty."

Evered lead him down the hall and down the marble staircase from the third to the second floor, and then down another hallway, and then finally from the marble staircase down the the first floor.

"As if I don't know my way around my own manor . . ." Orrin grumbled loudly.

Then, Evered swiftly headed to an even larger Oak door, and stopped, turning around, and held out his left arm.

"Your Magesty, your meeting with the delegates in the courtroom has begun. You may now enter at this appropriate time."

Orri scowled, secretly imagining striking the advisor as he burst threw the door, gazing blankly at two men in scarlet robes with Galbatorix's mark, and five noblemen on each side of the main desk in which King Orrin would soon sit. The two delegates immediately approached him, forcing a small stack of papers in his hands.

Orrin gripped the stack so hard it wrinkled and nearly ripped, and gazed at the delegates hatefully.

They delegates seemed pleased with themselves, knowing and superior. This was senseable, and it angered Orrin. He shoved past them and directed himself to the judge's desk in the front of the courtroom. He sat in the tall chair and glanced about the room.

"Well?" he said sharply, expecting.

The delegates, still grinning, walked to chairs in the front rows of the court. One of the noblemen immediately jumped up from his seat, and appraoched Orrin.

"Your Magesty, these are delegates sent from Galbatorix with an important message. They refused to be named."

"I see," Orrin growled, eyeing them greedily.

"What have you got to hide? What is your name? Are you two men not respectable enough to want to be called by something?" he added, hitting the desk.

One of the delegates snickered, and the other raised his eyebrows. The one who had snickered announced, "What about your name, _King Orrin? _Do you not think that is is disrespectful to you to only name yourself that because you are hiddne within your pathetic country's borders? Would you continue with such a name in front of the _real king,_ King Galbatorix? You see, Orrin, we are not the ones who should be worried about _respectful names_."

Orrin slapped his palm on the desk, making the nobleman in front of him cringe.

"You have some nerve, man, addressing me in such a way, whether you think I hold authority or not, you are still in a country in which everyone believes me to be the king, so if you challenge me, you challenge everyone here. Do you not fear annihilation? You are fools if you do not."

"What about you, Orrin? You have more reason to fear annihilation than we do. You are clearly the real fool here," the same delegate responded, smirking knowledgeably.

Orrin nearly leapt form his chair, but remained, and bit his tongue in attempt to calm himself. The nobleman in front of him, Jein, hastily piped, "We could argue back and forth with these rude delegates, wise King, or we could begin the meeting and ignore their barbarism. We must also remember that their fate is protected while under the term, 'delegate.' If harm comes to them, the enitre Imperial Army could advance with a vengeance at our doorsteps."

Orrin actually laughed out loud, exclaiming, "I am perfectly aware of the circumstances of war!"

Jein recoiled, actually backing up several steps.

"What message do you bring?" Orrin finally asked, sighing with distress.

"Our only message is to confide in you that Galbatorix is more than capable of destroying your petty country, unless of course you surrender Surda and its lands and people over to him. Thousands would be spared, and you would lose your status as king, not that it ever was of importance, and become a wealthy classed citizen who has the right to hold meetings with the true King to discuss matters. If you are lucky and respectful, you might still have a say in what happens in Alagaesia, even though you have continuously disrespected Galbatorix over the years."

"Fine offer but I kneel to no other man. I am King over my own country. What right does Galbatorix have to take over my success when he ahs his own?"

"Surda was the King's land! Not yours! It was you who had taken the land away from him! The King only wants his land back, he successes all over Alagaesia!"

Orrin hacked and coughed until he had spit out a gob of muck on the floor beside him.

"That is my answer to your damn King!" Orrin raged.

"Your Magesty - act rational," warned Jein. The other silent noblemen in the room instantly scribbled on their parchments, glancing about the room.

The delegates ahd expected no other response, and continued grinning.

"Another messenger arrives this very evening. The courrier that came with us will deliver a message back to the King. We will be held in your best hospitality until further notice, as instructed by the King."

"Horse-shit, I will!" bellowed Orrin, leaping form his seat.

"Then we will tell the courrier to come back with the entire army by nightfall. Your choice, Orrin. You know damn well that you are not ready to deal with the entire army tonight. Especially not tonight."

Orrin's face became scarlet, hazardously tightening and blowing out steam.

"OH, YOU THOUGHT OF EVERYTHING, DID YOU?"

He then threw a messy fit, stamping his foot repeatedly and slapping his sides before ordering, "Jein! Show them their rooms on the second floor!"

The delegates guffawed uncontrollably, while Jein and the other noblemen became worrisome and frightened by the King's mannerisms.

"Your Magesty, may I ask that you calm down, this is unnecessary - "

"_Unnecessary my ass, Jein!_ Show them their rooms, please!"

Jein scrambled out of the room, beckoning the delegates after him.

The other nobles followed suit, and soon Orrin was alone, fuming and sputtering.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent in his private chamber, pacing about his study, ordering trays of food, throwing his books off his shelves in his study, and stomping every time he remembered to do so. 

Quite a few times a kind nurse named Foase entered tentatively, trying fruitlessly to calm himself before he dropped dead of hot anger. By the time Foase had brought him his dinner tray, since he was inconsolable and refused to dine in his very own great hall, Orrin's veins on his temples were pulsing hideously and were in plain sight.

After Foase had watched him cautiously eat his dinner, she sweetly pleaded, "Your Magesty, there is another delegate wating in the courtroom, and guards out in the courtyard swore that they saw the Dragon Rider and Elf ambassador approach! The Shadeslayer and his dragon have come here! What a meeting it will be in a moment's time, yes?"

* * *

A/N: Thank you so very much for reading and thank you a thousand times more if you review. 

Please review . . . . it only takes about a minute of your time for someone who spent hours writing it for you.

* * *

(Chapter Sixteen is ready to submit if only I got some reviews for chapter fifteen . . .) 


	16. Chapter 16

_Purple Stone_

Chapter Sixteen: Bluffs With Insults

Eragon and Arya awaited impatiently in the courtroom in Orrin's manor. After remaining in such a hot and humid forest for two days and then coming to a much colder, drier environment in which a rather lazy king sat all day would make anybody quite impatient.

It didn't help that they were accompanied by greedy noblemen and a damn delegate sent from Galbatorix.

So when Orrin had once again burst threw the courtroom's doors bitterly, and demanded, "What now!" -- Eragon and Arya had come to their limits upon dealing with anger.

"That's a kind greeting," Arya sarcastically snapped.

Orrin huffed and stormed past her, making Arya scoot out of the way unless she wanted to be shoved violently. Eragon cringed with annoyance, holding back the urge to say something. The delegate next to them was in a horrid, white robe with a large golden "G" across the chest.

The noblemen had sat in chairs upon the left and right of the judge's desk, while Eragon and Arya stood in the middle. The delegate had also chose to sit on the right side of the desk. Orrin harshly rubbed his fingers through his hair, deeply and distressfully exhaling.

"State your business, _delegate_," Orrin demanded icily, still distrought from the last meeting with the previous delegates.

"I've come to offer a plan of truce, you see. My message is the exact same as the others before me. Only I've come to remind you of the proposal. Do you remember it clearly, or shall I repeat the offer?" the delegate answered business-like, sounding with much more claritive authority than the last two.

Eragon and Arya became uncomfortable being ignored and having to attend the meeting if they weren't holding any place in it.

Orrin's jaw twitched, and grunted, "You mean to tell me that you forced me down from my very own chamber to tell me the same thing that the fools before you did! I also presume that you are just as preposterous so as to not have a name!"

"No name indeed, sir. And before long, that chamber will not be yours - especially if you continue to refuse the kind offer from a merciful King," the delegate retorted, straightening his robe's collar.

Eragon suppressed a grin; Arya, on the other hand, did not seemed to be perturbed on anything other than the fact that they were being ignored.

To them it was pointless to be there.

"_Kind _offer? _Merciful King_? Do you know how many of my men have died from your _kind and merciful king!"_

Eragon surprisingly fidgeted roughly, curling his fists and narrowing his eyes in disgust.

Arya scoffed, "Don't speak just to learn what your perilous voice sounds like! What are you playing at, raving on about your men dying! _Your men!_ What of _our losses? _What of the Varden? What of the captured, helpless _allies_ of yours at the mercy of that wretched dictator? How dare you insult my pointed ears to hear such mockery!"

Eragon nodded in agreement, just as angry over Orrin's words as Arya was. The noblemen scribbled on their parchment constantly. The delegate seemed out of place and didn't know whether to object or silently acquiese.

Orrin's face contorted, obviously racking his brains for a counteract. Finally, he responded, "Hearken _your words_, girl! I am no different from your very own people! Hiding in their trees and waiting for something better to happen! What makes me so different from them? What excuse do the ridiculous Elves have? Eh? What excuse do _you _have, what _fighting _have you done? All you've done after the battle of the burning plains was run off to see your dear mother in your country! Your _pointed ears_ are already a disgrace -"

"ENOUGH!" Eragon threatened, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly.

Arya seemed so frigidly angry that she dared not to move - lest she kill everything in sight she was so angry.

The delegate actually shuddered.

Orrin made as if to further continue but Eragon hostilely added, "For one, how dare a gentleman ever talk to a lady like you just did! Furthermore, you don't know what the hell you're talking about! Arya ALWAYS put herself against her mother as a queen and accused her of abandoning her allies just as she did you!"

Eragon paused, approaching Orrin's desk aggressively.

"Also, you don't have a _damn clue _WHAT Arya was doing in Ellesmera, so you should learn to SHUT THE HELL UP! Arya has been through much more than you could possibly IMAGINE! And for you to call her and her kind ridiculous is a threat to your very life! I suggest you learn to cool your tongue and continue with your delegate!"

Arya raised her head proudly, teeth grinding together so hard it was heard across the courtroom.

"Our discussion is done. I assume it is quite clear that you are impossible to deal with. However, another delegate with the same proposal shall arrive at precisely noon tomorrow. I also suppose that you know I demand the highest quality room to stay? Under the authority of King Galbatorix himself."

The delegate proudly walked towards the door, expecting someone to escort him.

Orrin did nothing, so Jein immediately dashed towards the man and lead him out of the room.

The other noblemen followed suit.

"Where's your dragon? I suppose that since she's not with you and up your ass she's abandoning her allies?" Orrin said sharply.

"SHE'S HUNTING!" Eragon roared.

"Well, you two are no delegates yet you are nothing of less importance. Have you come for shelter, news, meeting, or all three?"

"There's nowhere else to go, and I expected you to know that another battle approached head on," Eragon answered.

Still, Arya was too frigid to do any more speaking.

"Why would you think that?"

"Because thirty thousand troops were sent towards Ellesmera to overrun it, and escort the Queen and any surrenders back toGil'ead. Then, while we were on our way back from where we were - Ilia Feon - a thick forest - we saw more troops heading somewhere Eastward Alagaesia, but it didn't seem like Ellesmera. Maybe they could attempt to attack the dwarves. Or maybe they're beginning to flank us. Needless to say, we can't just sit around and watch others form battle formations."

"SO you come here to insult me, then to ask for my army?"

Orrin began to cackle out loud.

Suddenly, a strong, nauseating pit of grief formed in Eragon's stomach at the laugh. Everything was closing in on them. Most of the Varden - or at least most of the Varden under Nasuada - was destroyed and awaiting death. Ellesmera and neighboring Elven cities were soon to be eliminated - unless all surrendered. But - as Eragon thought - what right-minded elf would surrender?

Now, of all things, Orrin seemed to as have abandoned them, once and for all, completely.

"What do you mean?" Eragon asked quietly, near whisper and fear blossoming within him.

He felt not as if a young adult and a dragon rider, but as a young schoolboy under a towering bully.

Orrin cackled again, sensing Eragon's sudden fear.

"Wel? Why should I lend you my defenses? What do you have to offer for me? The Elf shall live of course because she's the Queen's daughter, and you shall _live_ I presume, but not by much. Only enough to sustain the dragon. And it's not like you and your dragon provide much protection anyhow. You are an excellent swordsman and magician, yes, but you are still only one against many. Again, why should I lend you my defenses?"

The words stung Eragon like an icy knife.

Arya had once before warned him of this, true, but it had sounded so much more realistic and terribly frightening from a cackling King who suffered from severe lack of sleep and bitterness.

What could he possibly do now?

"Don't bluff, Orrin. You will fight because you are proud and wish to keep your fat crown on your fat head. Do not try to act tough and pretend you don't need to fight for a cause. You will always have a cause to fight for - and that is for your own selfish needs."

Eragon was still lost in his thoughts, shrinking away from the world. He felt as if he was being whipped into space, weightless . . .

"Of course I still wish to fight against Galbatorix. But that doesn't answer that fact that I do not wish to fight along someone who continuously insults me."

Eragon looked down upon his feet, actually frightened.

"Get over the insults. Where will we stay?"

"You - upstairs. Him and the beast - well there's no dragon chamber so I suggest you go outside."

Arya snorted.

Suddenly, Eragon felt something pricking in is head.

_"Stay within the manor. I will be able to scout around for approaching enemies and that is not very safe for you."_

_"Saphira - "_ Eragon began.

_"Trust me. I'm fine, and you need rest. Please stay within the manor. Meet me outside tomorrow at dawn." _

As if Arya had known what Saphira would do, she added, "The dragon will be staying outside. Eragon and I need a place to stay. This is no question, but a demand as we are on the same side. Even for different reasons."

Orrin sneezed.

"Weel, I guess I can't say no. All these damn people coming and demanding a place in my house! Three delegates and two disrespectful twits! Fine! No need for you to be escorted! Second floor - find your way there. . ."

Orrin then darted out of the room, leaving them alone.

Eragon still stared at the floor.

Arya looked at him, and rested her hand on his shoulder.

"Why are you so scared? I thought I told you what might happen? I told you that you especially had to be careful when fighting the enemy because they will try to capture you, and if they do, it's worse than death."

Eragon took a tremendous swallow and felt a lump dissolve down his throat.

He placed his left hand nervously on the back of his neck, and nodded, his face reddening.

"Don't let him scare you," Arya repeated, more animatedly.

She then let go of his shoulder and walked out the door, waiting for him to follow her.

Barely paying attention to the rest of the manor as they went upstairs, Eragon kept trying to contact Saphira but she was without of reach. This only worsened his nerves.

Eragon entered his room in a daze, slowly shutting his door.

He did not even bother with lighting any lamps, mostly because his sight didn't need them, and found his way towards the bed, where he threw off his traveling clothes, boots, and sword and bow and arrow.

* * *

Suddenly a whoosh of air and noise awoke him. 

"Brisingr," a quiet voise spoke.

Immedaitely the lamps were lit, and Eragon had arose from his bed with his sword withdrawn.

"Arya!" he exclaimed, dropping the sword on the bed.

She seemed distressed and unsure of what to do with herself.

Eragon, only dressed in undershorts, immedaitely slipped into his thin leather pants, picking the sword back up.

He began to hear shouts and screams in the distance.

He made for the door but Arya stopped him, saying, "No. I am not sure where the enemies are or who they are. Only a second ago I saw a nobleman kill a group of citizens. . . and then a citizen killed a nobleman. I'm waiting for Saphira's response. . "

"Saphira?" Eragon whispered hoarsely.

"How can this be? Surely the King's manor is protected enough for a night's sleep - "

"Nevermind - she's closing up her mind - someone must be attempting to penetrate her thoughts."

Arya then threw open the door, letting in more light, and Eragon saw that she was still in a light blue nightgown, her elongated sword thrushing through flesh as soon as she stepped out . .

Then the door slammed shut - Eragon kicked it open.

Everyone in the manor was running about wildly.

Arya was right - the enemy was unknown. A man with Orrin's mark would attack a citizen . .and then a seemingly innocent citizen would strike a noble!

The only people who seemed fragile were the women and children hustling towards their inn.

Eragon yelled out for silence.

They didn't listen.

Some noble attacked Arya - and indefinate rage consumed him -

Instantly the man was slaughtered, and Eragon once again thudnered, "STOP! I CAN STRIKE YOU ALL FROM MAGIC IF YOU PEOPLE DON'T SHUT UP!"

Silence.

Those who had been fighting dropped their weapons and muttered nder their breaths. Those who had been fleeing took a second to stop, panting heavily and looking about fearfully.

Arya kept her sword withdrawn, her arms ready to swing or strike any oncoming approach to her . .

"Now! Will someone tell me what's happened?"

Still, silence.

Then, a women who had been attempting to get out of her inn room said, "There was this disagreement in the secret meeting. We know we shouldn;t have . . we know it;'s against the law . . but . . " she began to quietly sob.

Eragon sighed, from the stress and knowing he must look a sight only in his pants and remaining shirtless.

Ruffling his hair, he approached the woman and knelt beside her and gently added, "Do not worry about this lawbreaking. You are least likely to be punished. Please just tell me what has happened?"

She nodded, stifling her tears, and continued, "Well, for the past four months the people and the noblemen have been holding secret meetings because we disagree with the king. Most of the citizens were demanding that we remove the delegates form the manor and lock them out, because several were afraid that they would allow Imperial soldiers inside to kill us all. But the nobles, who were in charge of the delegates, didn't want their own skin to be in danger. So they argued. And then the citizens wanted to be in the manor without having to pay for a room. Then the nobles were unfuriated because they received a percent of what the citizens apy for when they come here. So . . they jsut started fighting and trying to take women and their chidren to use against the other side. . ."

Eragon sighed again, rising to his feet.

"Outrageous. Blood was spilt for this . . ? Outrageous. Where are the delegates now?"

"Nobody knows! Probably letting every Imperial soldier know their way around this country! They aren't in their rooms!"

"Fine. Heal the wounded, clear the dead, and search for those delegates. I'll be damned if any more blood is spilt tonight."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. For those who review without me having to ask them to, thank you very much.

Everyone else - the faster I get plenty of reviews the faster I submit the next chapters.

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

_Purple Stone_

Chapter Seventeen: Execution

It was dawn, after only a few hours later.

Eragon stood fully dressed and armed, patiently waiting in front of Saphira out in the western part of the courtyard. Most of the people were on the eastern side, gathering around by the stadium for the first play of the day. Sunlight dripped onto the hills of Aberon, gradually inviting its inhabitants to venture out even at an early setting.

_"Eragon," _Saphira reproached kindly.

He had had a stressful evening with a petty amount of sleep, withdrawing the usual sparkle out of his weary eyes. Even though he had missed his dragon, Eragon kept a steady gaze at the concrete patio of the courtyard on which she very perched, talons scraping occasionally.

Saphira neared, her sapphire eyes gleaming and scales shining as the sun whispered morning's greetings.

He looked up at her, meeting her eyes.

_"I have bad news - "_ She began -

_"Bad news? More of which, I presume?" _

_"Yes. When I was out and about last night not only did I see that treacherous counsel of the nobles and citizens - "_

_"You knew - but wouldn't answer Arya's or my calls? We could have prevented deaths, Saphira! Even some children died! Why wuld you refuse to let either of us talk to you? We had no idea what was happening - if some army had smashed their way through or - "_

_"Eragon! Stop interrupting me!" _

Saphira was neither bitter not saddened by his hasty, unwanted reaction. Eragon was not mad at her, just alarmed that she had knew yet closed her mind to him as if an enemy.

Instead, Saphira seemed prudent to carry on her 'bad news.'

Eragon sighed, straightening up his posture.

_"Of course - please continue." _

_"Well," _Saphira began, indignant, _"While I was out and about yesterday I noticed even more soldiers heading about Alagaesia. They were stationing on the west side of the Beor Mountains . . . which neighbors eastern Surda! Then I began to circle the land and I did not see any more soldiers . . so they're not encircling us - they forming around the dwarves!"_

Eragon's eyes dropped to the ground, his senses slowing. He thought of Orik, and how the last time he had saw him was at the Battle of the Burning Plains . . . . . after he wept about Hrothgar's death and how Eragon attempted to comfort him. Orik was his adopted kin, his best friend, the dwarf whom he thought of every day.

This sort of thinking reminded Eragon also of his cousin, Roran, and how his search for Katrina had been going. He remembered asking Roran if he could be of any help but Roran refused, instead insisting it was a job for him alone.

Eragon had understood.

Roran was pursuing his love . . . pursuing his future that was unclear for Alagaesia.

_"Eragon aren't you listening?" _

He nodded sharply, forcing his mind on present day thoughts.

_"We must go to the dwarves for assistance."_

_"How will we get there? You and I and possibly Arya could fly, of course. But so high the air would not be very sufficient for fear of their arrows. No one else will manage to penetrate through their formations to aid the dwarves. If anybody is of aid then they will have to start where the first line of blocking begins - and even that is a trouble itself. The only thing we can do is warn them."_

Eragon huffed, running his fingers fiercely through his short brown hair, fuming.

_"Nothing is good enough! Everybody will lose because allies are drifting apart! Islanzadi ruined EVERYTHING! The Elves were our LAST hope!" _

Eragon couldn't believe his words. Of course he believed them to be true but never before thought about it so much for as Saphira to know and worry as much as he.

She stiffened, steam jetting from her nostrils.

_"We still have hope, Eragon, always that if nothing else. The Elves are the wisest of all - many will have most likely surrenderd so when they manage to free themselves . . . we can rejoin. But before we get ahead of ourselves, we still must remember that the dwarves are not stupid, however obsessed they are with rocks, but they will see the enemy at their gates and ax them to death! Dwarves are strong, Eragon, you of all people should know that!"_

A sudden flash of thought heightened Eragon's thinking.

_"The Urgals! They are many in number and have been in hiding for ages! The Urgals can be our ally! Why has Orrin not welcomed them into Surda so we could - "_

_"They went back to their homes after the Burning Plains - they had no real choice. Nasuada had just withdrew her people form Surda, obviously bluffing, so that when she came back she could occupy the land that Orrin had uninhibited because of 'bad soil' . . . anyway, both of the leaders of the Varden were scuffling and the Urgals already seemed out of place to further interject in others affairs."_

_"I see. Well Orrin should send out a scouting party for them, reconsile, and bring them back into our ranks."_

_"And what will you do?"_

_"Me? I'll do what I've bene waiting to do ever sense I was revived of my curse - I am going to Gil'ead and I am bringing back any survivors. The gods as my witnesses I refuse to eat and sleep comfortably anymore knowing of their harsh conditions."_

Eragon wheeled around, towards the manor, when Saphira jumped up, standing at her fullest of height.

_"Didn't you hear Orrin? Didn't you hear Arya? You're scared one minute about what the Empire will do with you once they manage to capture you and the next you're preparing yourself to barge into the Empire's sanctuary itself to make a pathetic attempt to save the others? I thought Arya had talked you out of that already!"_

Eragon sighed impatiently, throwing his hands at his sides bitterly.

He then decided not to answer, but whispered goodbye and darted through the courtyard and back into the manor's doors, ignoring the calls of shy praise form those who had been watching the play at the stadium.

Immediately before the door, Orrin, Arya, and a noble were apparently a second away from extiting that very door he was entering.

Orrin scowled, his contorted face one inch too close to Eragon's, who immedaitely jumped backwards.

"Where were you? I've been looking for you! You're a Dragon Rider! This is a time of war! You have responsibilities, you know? You can't just take a morning walk whenever you please!" He yelled, backing up into the manor and gesturing Eragon inside.

The noble slammed the door shut behind him.

"Found those delegates?" Eragon inquired roughly, violently shoving the noble off when he had tried to guide him further inside.

Arya compressed an unappreciative snort, obviously not amused by Eragon's response to the noble.

Orrin gritted his teeth, retorting, "Eating breakfast in the cafe! They were in their rooms all along - those treacherous citizens were looking in the wrong rooms! Bad enough that the nobles under my command were disrespectful enough to hold such meetings but now I have a speech to make to the public about citizen and royal blood in _my house_!"

"That's not the only trouble that you allow in _your house_ - I mean, techincally all of Surda is _your house._ And, Surda is only a room in Alagaesia - so you do let things go wrong in _your house._ Like, letting innocents burn in Gil'ead, because you're too lazy to protect the other rooms in _your house_ - too busy protecting your rooms? What about the Elves' rooms - they're in _your house! _Too busy _shaking off your responsibilities_ - eh - still taking your eternal _morning walk_!" Eragon boldly snapped.

Arya was disappointed in his continuous anger this morning - sighing and glancing about.

Eragon could already feel the words that she would say later about cooling his hothead to stop provoking the king. It was one thing to be angry the night before, where the king provoked them, but now he was snapping just to show off his anger.

Orrin's face did not further contort into a brilliant scarlet or magenta, nor did his throat itch with burning hatred so he did not cough and sputter. He was not bothered by Eragon's remark, neither the noble.

Suddenly Eragon realized that Arya, Orrin, and the noble - Jein - were solemn.

This began to make him feel anxious, as if under judgement.

Arya glanced upwards, her emerald eyes closing, and untied her hair, thus making it cascade down her back as she tossed aside the hairpen. She readjusted her sword, which made Eragon to assume that she was nervous about something.

Eragon looked at her quizzically, his widened eyes demanding an explanation.

Orrin then calmly said, "We've received a message earlier. Nasuada . . . . she - "

If Eragon's eyes were wide before, they were nothing compared to how large they had become now, larger than saucers, fearful and boyish.

He glanced at Arya, unable to face Orrin, and waited. Her silent eyes revealed nothing.

Orrin's words stumbled. . .

He stepped back, disbelieving and rebellious to everything.

"Read the letter, son," Jein answered, untucking a wrinkled scroll with slanted and scrawled handwriting.

Eragon grabbed it quickly, eying them furtively as he backed up against a nearby wall to read it:

_Orrin, _

_this is my last farewell and riddance of this world. I did not hold up to Galbatorix's intentions, apparently, and my set execution is at dawn tomorrow, about the time that you would receive this letter. Rumors lead me to believe that Eragon was alive and well and traveling somewhere in your direction. _

_Please let him know that I intend him to take over the Varden and lead them well - whatever is left of it. There are no survivors here - so please do not let him come. Well, Elva is fine - so I guess she is considered a survivor - but she is safe and taken care of. _

_She is staying at a wealthy shop with a shoemaker who makes appointments with her and potential parents in Gil'ead. She is happy so far, and very safe - children are seen with care after a prophecy Galbatorix saw when he captured Angela the Herbalist and she fulfilled him one. _

_It would be an abomination for me to repeat it now. _

_I was also informed by Galbatorix himself that his soldiers are actually struggling against the Elves due to a newly discovered Dragon and its Rider! Named Oromis and Glaedr! Eragon must have known this beforehand, of course, since he was sent there for his training to be completed. But for some reason, even though - as I have been told - that they were both crippled and aging, they are holding back the forces with an impenetrable wall of magic! The ELves are able to send spells and arrows through the wall, but the enemy is unable to enter or return any arrows! They bounce off!_

_Galbatorix was so furious that he just kept sending in more troops. _

_The villagers actually aren't as wicked as their town - in fact, they are only accustomed to it and so ignorant that they believe Galbatorix's cause for order and unification under his ruling. _

_Other than that, there is no real news here - and I am already limited to the freedom of writing this letter. I can not enclose any form of secret messaging since it will have to be read and approved from Galbatorix, but I do send my best of hopes and wishes to Eragon and Saphira, Arya, and you, Orrin - so that one day you will have the sense to rekindle your thoughts and realize you are the last leader at large with any potential to do anything. Unify your men and gather order! Fight for the children! Fight for the dead whose blood rot and haunt the ground forever more!_

_Fight for me!_

_I will be hung until total suffocation because I refused to repeat oaths in the Ancient Language so that you would have a cause. _

_Use that cause!_

_Best wishes, _

_Nasuada_

_P.S. Tell Eragon that the pur_

The end of the word was off the lines and of blotted ink. Eragon had a fleeting image of a hangman snatching it away from her as she attempted to tell him something very important . . .

Eragon crumpled up the letter, eyes remaining wide, and threw it in Orrin's face.

"_Why_?" he croaked, a question so irrevocably unanswerable that the others returned glances of pity and sympathy.

Arya was unable to face him, to look him in the eye that would confirm him that everything would turn out fine as long as her knowing eyes would reassure his.

She did not face him.

Orrin actually seemed ashamed of himself, which was understandable after what Nasuada had wrote in her letter.

Jein made as if to approach him, saying, "The letter arrived this morning - I'm sorry, son -"

"I'm _not_ your son!" Eragon grumbled, turning back around and bursting through the manor's doors.

He stood there, panting, thinking roughly and furiously before storming back in half a minute later.

"What about Ellesmera? You heard her - they still have hope! They can only hold that damn wall for so long!" He raved.

Orrin looked at the ground, Jein walked away and past the main floor towards the stairs.

Arya at last looked up, shaking her head.

"Ellesmera will fall - and if it doesn't - it doesn't. We don't have time to worry about them when we have to worry about families right here."

"What are you talking about? The Varden was in danger but we let them down and they were slaughtered! The Elves are still in danger and we have the chance to help them but we wait until their hope is already gone before we consider helping them - then it will be too late. Also - Saphira told me that there are soldiers outflanking the dwarves! What - are we going to sit that one out, too? What's our excuse now? We've been doing all this traveling and running around for months but nothing has happened! We aren't getting anywhere - we're just sitting ducks and our _brothers_ behind us are getting killed off!"

"Eragon! I know! You aren't the only one frustrated, okay? Everyone is upset because of this! We're at war with a large enemy! What do you expect?"

"The enemy only obscures northwestern part of Alagaesia! Everywhere else is against him! Why are we losing so dramatically - because everybody is abandoning everybody!"

"Then do something! You're the Dragon Rider! What do you want me to do? You heard Nasuada - you're the leader! Take over!"

"Of what - the dead? Who is there?"

"Surda."

Eragon wheeled around. It was Orrin who had spoken, clearly and calmly. He had withdrew his crown and given it to Jein earlier - which is why he had headed upstairs previously.

Eragon was so caught up with everything else that he didn't realize where they were going.

"Me? Control Surda? These people don't know me - they only see a Dragon Rider," Eragon answered quickly, surprised at the mere thought of what Orrin was implying at.

"You've been so tense lately you haven't noticed your own dragon whispering in the back of your mind, Eragon. Even when you were walking past the stadium, people stopped acting to wave at you - we saw through the window!"

Eragon huffed, unable of replying with any decency.

"You want to give me your leadership, Orrin, in order to cleanse your slate of foolish ignorance in attempt to purify yourself?" Eragon inquired, not unkindly.

Orrin looked at the floor.

"Who better to give leadership to than someone who has not only experienced the troubles that a king faced, but lived through it and continue against a tyranny no one has been able to yet defeat than you? You are a Dragon Rider, a Shadeslayer, and a young man of honesty and courage beyond my years to comprehend. You are seventeen and know plenty more of morales than I."

Eragon sighed heavily, slowly shaking his head.

He did not realize that he had already become seventeen, that it had only passed so many months of time. Time for nothing to occur but anxious worry and limited action.

"I am weary. Just because I become leader does not mean that I will autmatically save us from a great loss. You must understand I am no better for this position than anybody else. I must talk this through with Saphira."

Eragon then left the manor once more, unable to look at their faces as he left for fear of indignant or taken aback expressions or maybe even a possible sense of anger at his words.

He actually paid attention as he walked past the audience and the stage, forcing a weak smile and acknowledging their gentle greetings.

He was not at all surprised to see Saphira still perched on the courtyard patio on the far western side.

She actually smiled when he approached.

Eragon immediately sat beside her, head in his hands, and mumbled, _"I was short with you this morning only to be shorted with reality with Orrin in the manor. I guess I am to lead Surda and the Varden as one now . . .to be . . .a young king."_


End file.
